Out came the old detective's handcuffs, and the next instant they were snapped upon Sim's wrists behind his back.
"Now, don't you budge an inch till I tell you to!" panted the old man-hunter threateningly, as he aimed his pistol at Johnson.
"Ise a dead niggah!" groaned the rascal, dismally.
"That's what you'll be if you stir!" grimly said Old King Brady.
He strode over to Harry and picked him up.
First he was overjoyed to find that the boy was alive, then he carefully examined the wound on his scalp and saw it was only skin deep.
He court-plastered it, to stop the bleeding.
With a hatful of water he bathed the young detective's temples, and while so employed gazed around in quest of Mason.
The man was far away in the boat by that time.
Harry rapidly recovered, and finally got upon his feet again.