“What I have to say to you, Black, applies to the others,” Dave continued from outside the thicket. “If any man among you doesn’t drop all his weapons, we’ll make it lively for him when we get him out here.”
A look of malignant hate crossed his face, then ’Gene Black dropped also a knife to the ground.
“Come on out, Black,” directed Dave Fulsbee. “Mr. Reade, will you oblige me by running your hands over the fellow’s clothing to see if he, has any more weapons.”
Tom promptly complied. A hasty search revealed no other weapons.
“Now, step right along over there, Black, where you’ll find two of my men,” nodded Dave Fulsbee.
Again Black obeyed. He saw, dimly, two men some yards further away in the darkness and joined them.
Click-click! Then the scoundrel cried out in the bitterness of his rage, for the two railway detectives had handcuffed him.
“You, with the black hair, next,” summoned Fulsbee, his vision aided by the lantern in the centre of the thicket. “You come here, but first stop and drop your weapons on the pile—-all the trouble-makers you happen to have.”
Thus they came, one at a time, the operator being the last of all. The crowd of prisoners under guard of the two railway detectives grew steadily, and each was handcuffed as he reached the detectives after having been searched by Tom Reade.
“Good job,” nodded Dave coolly, as he am approached the captives. “Now, we have you all under lock and key. My, but you’re a pretty-looking outfit!”