But Lieutenant Prescott, who had just snatched his pistol from its holster, dashed forward, holding the muzzle of his weapon almost in the fellow's face.
"Stop all nonsense, now, my man, or we'll kill you without a word of parley," warned the young officer in an even but deadly and convincing tone of voice.
Hal slipped a cord from his pocket, knotted a noose, and dropped it over the fellow's head, drawing the noose tight.
"I think we can hold him this way, sir," Hal suggested to the lieutenant.
"Yes; get behind him, Overton. Let him walk slowly, but don't stand for any bolt. You get behind Blick, too, Terry, and hold your revolver on his back. If he tries to bolt, or makes a single hostile sign, shoot to kill. We're through with anything like nonsense."
With his uninjured left hand Lieutenant Prescott helped the prisoner to the floor.
"Now march, my man," ordered the officer. "Out into the street. Don't try to hurry, either."
Thus they proceeded to the street, Lieutenant Prescott with drawn revolver in his left hand keeping just behind the soldier boys, and with ever an eye of watchfulness on the prisoner's steps.
Only six doors below stood the police station. Thither they conducted Blick, and the solitary day policeman of the little town, seeing the crowd that had formed and followed, came rushing to the scene.
"Get a doctor first," Lieutenant Prescott ordered, when they had Jack Blick safely inside the station house.