“Come along.”
“If you don’t bring that there young un too, I won’t go,” exclaimed the scoundrel, fiercely.
Click!
A short struggle, and then click again, and Mike Bannock’s hands were useless, but he threw himself down.
“Fair play, fair play,” he cried, savagely; “take one, take all. Are you going to charge him, master?”
“Take the scoundrel away, Smithers, and once more I will be bail—before the magistrates, if necessary—for my clerk’s appearance,” cried Uncle Josiah, who was now out of patience. “Can I help?”
“Well, sir, you could,” said the constable, grimly; “but if you’d have in three or four of your men, and a short step ladder, we could soon carry him off.”
“No man sha’n’t carry me off,” roared Mike, as Jem ran out of the office with great alacrity, and returned in a very short time with three men and a stout ladder, about nine feet long.
“That’s the sort, Wimble,” said the constable. “Didn’t think of a rope, did you?”
“Did I think of two ropes?” said Jem, grinning.