So he threw up his hands!
"I—surrender! I give in!" he yelled. "Keep them off! Don't let them get at me!"
"I—I surrender! I give in!" he yelled
Anderson opened his eyes and stared.
He found himself in a small, squat room lighted by a lantern which stood upon a crudely made table in the corner beyond Bonaparte. There was a board floor well littered with soil and shavings. In another corner stood a singular looking contraption, not unlike a dynamo.
Marshal Crow bethought himself of his mission. Although the breath had been jarred out of his body, he managed to say,—explosively: