Quick as a flash of light, Mortimer’s long, sinewy arm shot across the table and closed upon the other’s throat. Henry was a big, strongly-built man, but struggle as he would he could not free himself from that vise-like grasp. Over went table and chair, and back they staggered to the side of the tent, Mortimer’s death-like grip neither shaken nor loosened. In an instant Henry’s men recovered from the first shock of surprise and the whole file rushed in to the rescue of their chief. The shouts of the men and the sounds of strife reached the outside of the tent and other men, headed by Captain Robert, rushed in and lent their aid. The struggle was sharp but brief and, overborne by numbers, Mortimer was finally dragged away, a stout rope wound about his arms. Dean, too, they seized and secured.
Henry had been thrown down in the struggle. He rose to his feet, black in the face and gasping, and staggered against the side of the tent, his hands pressed to his throat. Some of the men stood bunched around Mortimer, to restrain any further outbreak; others busied themselves picking up the various articles scattered around the floor in the struggle. Recovered somewhat from the fearful choking, Henry walked across the tent, his face working with anger. He confronted Mortimer, standing bound amid his captors.
“Curse you!”
And he struck the prisoner with his open hand full across the face.
The blow was a heavy one and would have taken a weaker man off his feet. A great shiver of rage convulsed Mortimer’s powerful frame, he strained furiously at his bonds and his blue eyes blazed with fury as he glared into the dark face of his opponent.
“You hound! Should we ever meet face to face, you’ll pay for that with your life!” he muttered between his teeth.
A furious retort was upon the lips of Henry, when Captain Robert abruptly interposed.
“You dare to interfere!” cried Henry, beside himself.
“No, but—” and Captain Robert whispered, his face close to that of his chief. The bystanders caught only the words “treatment of prisoners,” “general orders” and “High President.”
“Enough!” broke in Henry, with a violent effort keeping down his rage. “Take him away. I’ll deal with him later. Take him away, I say, before I kill him where he stands!”