Ran immediately tried to obey. He drew the large red bandanna from Longman’s pocket, found it strong enough for its purpose, and went around and took hold of the feet of the prostrate madman, but he immediately received a shower of kicks upon his chest that knocked him breathless.
Seeing that, Longman raised his voice again.
“Mr. Legg, come here! We haven’t got a man to deal with, but a devil, and a rum-maddened devil at that!”
Legg immediately rushed to the rescue.
“Have you got a scarf or a handkerchief? A good strong one. All right! Tie this brute’s fore paws together while I hold him down. Samson, my namesake, what amazing strength rum and madness gives a brute!” panted Longman, when he had finished his labor and arose to his feet.
The conquered demoniac lay bound and gagged on the floor, his murderous limbs helpless, his blasphemous tongue speechless. Yet still he writhed, tossed and floundered like some huge, stranded sea monster.
The distressed group gathered around Michael Man were obliged to wait in quietness for the arrival of the doctor, for they dared not even move the wounded man lest they should do him a fatal injury.
Dr. Hobbs came at last, and being a country practitioner, he brought his medicine chest as well as his surgical case with him.
He was a tall, lank, red-haired young Yorkshireman, fresh from the London colleges, who had lately succeeded to the practice of his father, an aged, retired physician of the place.
He found two patients to be treated, one in as dire need as the other.