Leather looked him straight in the eyes and threw down the axe.
“Here, Belton: handcuffs.”
One of his men dismounted, handed his gun and rein to a companion, took a pair of heavy handcuffs from the strap which held his blanket to the saddle, and advanced to where the convict stood with folded arms.
These were dragged roughly apart, and click!—one iron was about a wrist. Then the other arm was seized, dragged downward, and click! the convict’s wrists were secured behind his back, just as Mrs Braydon and her two daughters came hurrying out; and seeing what had taken place, Janet uttered a low cry, and would have fallen but for her sister’s arm.
The convict saw it, and his lips quivered for a few moments. Then he stood up with his head erect, gazing straight before him.
“Mr Dillon!” cried Mrs Braydon.
“Your servant, my dear madam,” said the new arrival, raising his hat as he rode forward. “Young ladies, yours. Don’t be alarmed, Miss Braydon: there is no danger now. I am very sorry that this outrage has taken place in the doctor’s absence. Your poor man rode over, and I came instantly.—Too glad to have been of service.”
Mrs Braydon’s lips moved, but no word was heard.
“Where is the young squire?” continued the visitor.
“My brother has gone out on a round, I suppose, Mr Dillon,” said Hilda quickly. “But—but what are you going to do?”