Dan turned and made a dive for the bushes, and no sooner had he disappeared than Mr. Sprague came in sight. While Mr. Sprague was holding his colloquy with the father and mother, who stood at the door, and Bud McCoy had gone around the house in time to catch Cale Newman coming out of the window, Leon noticed the pipe which Dan had thrown down, and which was not yet extinguished. He took a few pulls at it, and it went as lively as it ever did.
“Dan is out here in the bushes,” said he to Tom and young Dawson, who remained close at his side. “Let’s go out and capture him.”
“All right,” said Dawson. “Let us spread out a little, so that we will cover more ground. Be in a hurry, now.”
Leon was out of sight before he had ceased speaking. He made no attempt to draw his revolver, for he did not think it would be worth while. He had always known Dan, and knew him to be a lazy, worthless fellow, but he was little prepared for what happened afterward. He was looking everywhere for Dan—he must have been half a mile or more from his friends by this time—when suddenly, as he pressed down a thicket to look into it, he felt something on his back and he was thrown violently on his face. Knowing in a minute what it was, his hand went behind him, but he felt some fingers at work with his own, and his revolver was torn from his grasp. A feeling of horror came over him when he knew that he was disarmed. The weight was lifted off his back, he was rolled over, so that he could see what he had to contend with, and his own revolver was looking him in the face. It was cocked, too, and it needed only the pressure of a finger to make all things blank to him. It was Dan Newman who was bending above him. His face was very pale, but there was a glint in his eyes that spoke volumes.
“Not a word out of you,” said Dan, fiercely. “Not a word out of you. Roll over, with your face downwards.”
Leon had no alternative but to obey. There was shoot in Dan’s eyes, and Leon saw it. He rolled over, and Dan arose to his feet and took off his coat, and then his shirt, which he proceeded to tear up into small strips. It was then a task of no difficulty to bind Leon’s arms. It was done in less time than it takes to tell it, and then Leon was pulled to a sitting posture, while Dan stood and looked down at him.
“I’ve got you, ain’t I?” said Dan, who hardly knew whether he stood on his head or his heels. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t see that I can do anything,” said Leon, wondering if he was to give up and remain a prisoner in the hands of this man. “You can do what you please with me.”
“And it pleases me to take you down to Mobile and give you up to our folks,” said Dan. “Mebbe they’ll think that my company is in a condition for me to command it. It ain’t often that a man can get the son of a Secretary of War prisoner, is it?”
Leon did not care to talk any longer. He knew what Dan was going to do with him, and he did not feel much elated over it. He sat there in silence and watched Dan, who was grinning all over and hardly knew whether or not his good fortune had stood him so well in stead or not. He wanted to be sure about it, and so began a conversation with Leon; or rather, he talked and Leon listened. He examined his revolver repeatedly, took aim at certain spots on the trees, and acted for all the world like one who was bereft of his senses. Having spent an hour in this way, and being at last satisfied that Mr. Sprague had looked around the house without being able to find him, Dan thought he would go home and hold a short consultation with his father.