Directly after there was the rattle of a big key in the lock, the bolt snapped back, and the door was thrown open, to fill the place with the glow of the afternoon sunshine; and three great hounds bounded in, to rush at once for the prisoners and begin snuffing at them, growling loudly the while.
“Call those dogs off, Saunders,” said a stern voice, as the entrance was darkened by the figures of a group of men.
“In a moment,” was the reply, made by a tall, active-looking man, “They only want to know the new hands, and their flavour.—Here: down, boys!”
The speaker accompanied his order with a sharp crack of the whip, and the dogs came back unwillingly from the groups seated on the floor.
“Take care,” said the first speaker; “that man has a knife.”
Pete turned sharply, to see that a knife-blade was gleaming in Humpy Dee’s hand.
“Knife, has he?” said the man addressed as Saunders, and he stepped forward to where Humpy was crouching down.
“Give me that knife,” he said sharply.
“I don’t want to be eat by dogs,” said Humpy in a low, surly tone.
“Give me that knife,” was reiterated sternly, “or I set the dogs to hold you while I take it away.”