"Get up, Sergeant Overton," cried Noll, as he cut the last cord at his chum's ankles. "And now I turn the command over to you."
Most of the prisoners took their capture in an ugly mood. Their leader, however, affected, coolly, to regard it all as the fortunes of the game.
"Here don't handcuff any of the disabled men," directed Sergeant Hal. "Green, you stand as a guard over those wounded. It's bad enough to be hurt, without having one's hands fixed so that he can't aid himself any in his misery."
"You want Hinkey ironed, don't you?" inquired Noll.
"No."
"But he's an Army deserter."
"If he gets away from where he's sitting he'll be only the remains of one," returned Sergeant Overton dryly. "But Hinkey is wounded, and he'll need his hands free in order to look after himself."
Hinkey, however, did not deign to notice this grace by so much as a look or a word.
"What are you going to do with these fellows?" asked Noll presently.
"It doesn't rest with me," Hal replied. "This is a purely military matter, and I shall wait to get Lieutenant Prescott's orders."