“He was in my way,” was the sullen reply. “I have always wanted an aeroplane, and I thought this a good time to get one.”
“Did you injure the machine in any way?” asked Frank, as Sawyer stood gazing furtively from face to face, his black eyes showing fear.
“When I found I couldn’t get it off,” was the reply, “I loosened some of the burrs. It can be repaired easily enough.”
“That is more than can be said for you, if you have killed Green,” one of the men declared, shaking a fist at the prisoner. “If he’s dead you’ll be hauled up on one of these trees.”
“You wouldn’t dare do that!” Sawyer cried.
“Wouldn’t we?” cried the other. “You’ll see when we know whether he will live or not. How is it, boys?” he continued, stepping toward the spot where Green lay.
The man bending over Green was about to reply when Nestor laid a hand on his arm. The boy had been awakened at the first shot and had slipped out of his tent and over to the side of the wounded man, being the first to arrive there.
“Wait,” he said, as the ranger looked up in surprise. “Green is not seriously injured,” Ned went on, “but I want to make that rascal think he is.”
“What’s the idea?” asked the other, glancing from face to face about him.
“When he stands under a tree with a rope about his neck,” Ned said, “he’ll tell us the truth about this affair.”