Chapter IV
Prison Experiences
I was soon surrounded by a group of about a dozen panting, angry men. They made no attempts to conceal their rage. I was seized by several of them at once, violently shaken, and was asked so many questions all at once that, for a time, I was afforded a pretext for not answering any of them.
Finally quiet was restored. When the last man of the party had come up, they formed a ring about me on the road. Every moment the shadows of night were deepening, but I could clearly see that the fire of revenge burned hot in every face. Nor did I wonder at this. Duncan's escape had been so unexpected. They were as lions cheated of their prey. Almost at the moment when their savage passion for sport of the cruellest kind conceivable was to be gratified, their intended victim had suddenly slipped through their fingers. The thought of what I had been able to do filled me with a kind of fearlessness that prevented me from shrinking, as the circle of angry men narrowed about me, I felt I was at their mercy; I might be in great danger; I had been the means of thwarting them; but a thrill of pride went through me at the thought that I had been able to save the life of my dead father's dearest friend.
The leader of the party was a tall, rough, awkward-looking man of perhaps forty-five. I heard one of the men call him 'Colonel.' He stepped into the ring and brought a huge pistol to the level of my forehead.
'What's yer name?' he roared.
'Roger Davis,' I said.
'Where 're ye from?
'Cambridge.'
'Who sent ye out here?'