Soon pole-pieces and hame-straps were severed; and the frisones led forward left all behind, save the bridles and collars.
“Leave the collars on,” said Rivas, seeing there was no time to detach them. “Now we mount two and two; but first to dispose of him.”
The “him” was José, still seated on the box, apparently in a state of stupor.
“Pull him down, Cris! Tie him to the wheel!” commanded Kearney. “The driving reins will do it.”
The Texan knew how to handle tying gear, as all Texans do, and in a trice the unresisting cochero was dragged from his seat and bound, Ixion-like, to one of the carriage wheels.
But Rock had not done with him yet. There was a necessity for something more, which looked like wanton cruelty—as they wished it to look. This was the opening of the poor fellow’s mouth, and gagging him with the stock of his own whip!
So, rendered voiceless and helpless, he saw the four forzados, two-and-two, get upon his horses and ride off, the only one who vouchsafed to speak a parting word being the dwarf—he calling back in a jocular way—
“Adios, Señor cochero! May your journey be as pleasant as your coach is slow. Ha, ha, ha!”