“I will not sit down! I re-fuse.”
“Mind,” said Smithers. “I don’t want this rifle to go off.”
“You dare—you dare not shoot,” cried the visitor; but as he spoke he began to subside slowly, as if still mentally resisting, till the sentry raised his foot quickly, gave a sharp thrust, and his prisoner went down suddenly upon his back, with the sentry’s right foot upon his chest.
“Now then, no nonsense. Hand up that pistol.”
The prisoner’s hand went rapidly to his waist as if with the intent of snatching out and making use of his revolver, but quick as a flash the sentry’s rifle was pressed down harder now, close up to the man’s throat.
“That’s right,” said Smithers. “Now drop it.”
There was a few moments’ hesitation, and then the revolver fell softly upon the earth just beyond the shelter of the attap mat.
The next moment Smithers had raised his foot and kicked the pistol aside, but with an unexpected result, for one chamber exploded with a loud bang.
“I’ve done it now,” said Smithers to himself. “As for you, you lie still;” and he held his piece pointing still towards his prisoner while he cleverly retrieved the revolver. “Look here,” he said, “I had orders not to fire, only if it was wanted particular. Well, I haven’t fired, but they will hear that shot and be coming down before you know where you are.”
“What!” cried the prisoner, starting up in a sitting position.