“Don’t do it,” cried Barney Shea, cracking one of them over the head, and laying him out stiff. “Don’t yez give up yet, me lads.”
“Oh, dry up,” laughed Hale, amused over the Irishman’s odd advice. “Surrender and we’ll spare your lives.”
The outlaws sprang back and lowered their weapons.
“Will you give us a fair show and a real square trial?” asked one.
“We will,” said Hale. “I promise you a safe conduct to the nearest city, if you don’t escape on the road.”
“And no stringing up?”
“On my honor, no.”
“Then we give in.”
“Take ’em, boys,” said Hale to his men, and as if by magic any number of steel handcuffs appeared and were snapped on the wrists of the prisoners.
“For the divil’s sake,” cried Barney, “an’ is the foight over?”