“All right,” said Cameron, holding his hands high, “but for God's sake hurry up!” He ran towards the sergeant as he spoke, with his hands still above his head.
“Halt!” shouted the sergeant, as Cameron came near. “Constable Burke, arrest that man!”
“Oh, come, get it over,” cried Cameron in a fury of passion. “Arrest me, of course, but if you want to catch that chap you'll have to hurry. He cannot be far away.”
“Ah, indeed, my man,” said the sergeant pleasantly. “He is not far away?”
“No, he's a murderer and a thief and you can catch him if you hurry.”
“Ah! Very good, very good! Constable Burke, tie this man up to your saddle and we'll take a look round. How many might there be in your gang?” enquired the sergeant. “Tell the truth now. It will be the better for you.”
“One,” said Cameron impatiently. “A chap calling himself Raven.”
“Raven, eh?” exclaimed Sergeant Crisp with a new interest. “Raven, by Jove!”
“Yes, and an Indian. Little Thunder he called him.”
“Little Thunder! Jove, what a find!” exclaimed the sergeant.