But Captain Doc, escaping the bullets, called in subdued tones under several of the dwellings, and received two or three responses.
“Yo’ll get ketched here, bye-and-bye,” said he, “shor as the worl. Yo’ come along, an’ I’ll get yo’ in a better place.”
With the end of his gun he knocked a few bricks from the walled underpinning of a building that was nearer the ground than the others.
“Crawl in, an’ I’ll brick yo’ up.”
They obeyed with alacrity, and he replaced the bricks and went in search of other parties.
Looking out from a little cornfield, he saw one of the men whom he sought, run across an adjacent garden, and called to him.
The fugitive was the Town Marshal, or chief of police. Bewildered by fight, or not recognizing the voice, the man ran on and leaped the fence into Mercer street. The moon had now arisen, and shone very brightly.
“We’ve got you now!” shouted Harry Gaston, with a terrible oath; and with several of his comrades immediately surrounded Carr.
“We’ve got you now! You’ve been Town Marshal long enough. Going around here and arresting white men; but you won’t arrest any more after to-night.”