"Yes. He's dead."
"Take him along. If we leave him here, they'll toss him into the first hollow, and he was too good a man for that."
"You seem to be leader here, sir," said Poynter, placing a hand upon the man's shoulder. "What do you intend doing with me?"
"Well, that depends mainly upon yourself. If you have had enough of these vigilance fellows, why, come with us. We never go back upon a fellow-craftsman," returned the man, cordially.
"And you are—"
"The same as yourself; free livers is our name for it. Those whom we favor with our custom call us horse-thieves and counterfeiters," laughed the leader.
"Ah!" muttered Poynter, and bending his head as if in deep thought.
"All ready, Tamelt?"
"All ready, sir," was the prompt reply, and the little band left the house.
Jack Fyffe directed Poynter to a horse, which, with great delight and surprise, he found was his own noble bay, that had been taken when he was arrested. The five prisoners were also mounted, their horses having been found in the tavern stable; but they rode not by their own aid. Strong cords bound them to the saddle so securely that even had they tried to cast themselves to the ground, the effort would have been unsuccessful.