The boys hurried forward. As they came up to where the policemen and their prisoner stood, they observed that the half-breed’s wrists had been manacled. Over his prominent cheekbone, close to his left eye, was a large welt he had received in his encounter with the guardians of the law. Corporal Rand’s uniform was slightly dishevelled. A button had been torn from his coat. He was bleeding from a cut on one cheek.
“Here’s one of Murky’s friends that won’t give us so much trouble in the future,” Sergeant Richardson stated evenly.
“He’ll not be released this time either,” the corporal said with conviction.
“How did you manage to capture him so quickly?” Sandy inquired wonderingly.
“I kept him occupied,” the sergeant replied, “while Corporal Rand stole up on him from behind. Rand got him after a short struggle.”
“We’ll have to take him along with us, I suppose,” said Dick.
“It can’t be helped,” Rand answered. “Hadn’t we better start, sergeant?”
Richardson brushed the snow from his fur jacket.
“Yes. At once. Dick,” he instructed, “you can saddle your ponies right away. We’ll use them in breaking trail.”
The boys offered the two policemen the use of their mounts but the offer was rejected.