“You are a bold man to question me, captain!” said the giant sternly.
“I know it; but I’ve an overpowering curiosity to find out,” and the captain dropped his hand carelessly upon the butt of the pistol he carried at his hip.
“Hands up!” exclaimed the fellow, seeing the movement. “Hands up, or you are a dead man!”
Hoping that he might yet parley with the maniac, the officer obeyed. It were better, perhaps, had he drawn his gun and risked a shot. The giant looked at him with wicked, glowing eyes.
“I will tell you who I am, officer,” he whispered hoarsely. “I am a madman!”
The last word he fairly shrieked; yet not for a second did he forget his victim, nor did his hand tremble. The rifle still transfixed the helpless officer.
But the officer was a kindly man, and although he believed himself in peril of his life still, the brave man ever has pity for those touched in the head. He said quietly:
“My poor man, lower your weapon and come with me down to yonder camp. Those are Uncle Sam’s troops down there. They will take care of you.”
“Ha!” cried the maniac furiously. “I need no one to care for me. I can care for myself. You’d much better be thinking of help for yourself, captain.”
“Well, then I’ll go along and look for that help,” said the officer easily.