“Can’t I give him just one leetle whack for every man he’s knocked down, cap’n?” asked the trapper, flourishing one of his clenched hands in the air.
“Let him up,” repeated Uncle Dick.
The backwoodsman obeyed the order very reluctantly. He arose to his feet, pulling his antagonist up with him.
“Waters, is this the way you repay us for saving your worthless life?” demanded Uncle Dick, sternly. “Some of the men you struck were the very ones who kept you from falling into the hands of the savages on shore.”
“I’ll pay you for it hall afore I am done with you,” gasped the prisoner, panting from the violence of his exertions. “Hand you, my friend in buckskin, I’ll see you some other day when this thing—”
Waters Finds his Master.
“Silence!” commanded Uncle Dick.
“There’s honly one way to stop my talking and that is to stop my breath,” declared Waters, boldly.
“You will go without food for twenty-four hours for every word you utter,” replied Uncle Dick. “Master-at-arms, take him down and put him in the brig. Mr. Baldwin,” he continued, in a lower tone, “have a sentry put over him with orders to allow him to hold communication with no one.”