"Aint it, though? All right, ride yer high hoss, if yer want to. But throw down them arms fust."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean all of yer are prisoners, thet's wot I mean," drawled the guerrilla.
"You have no right to hold me up in this fashion."
"Ye forgit, sonny, thet might makes right in most cases. Come, hand over them firearms."
Jack had been provided with a pistol by Old Ben, and this he was compelled to surrender, and his companions were also disarmed. The guerrillas numbered fully a score, so resistance would have been foolhardy.
"What do you intend to do with me?" asked our hero, after he had been made a prisoner by having his hands bound behind him.
"We'll hold ye till Dr. Mackey comes back."
"When will that be?"
"Can't say."