It had all happened so quickly that McGlory was dazed. He was a moment or two in recovering his wits and in recognizing the sinister face and mocking eyes that bent down over him.
"Grattan!" he gasped.
"Ay, messmate," gibed a voice from near at hand; "Grattan and Bunce. Don't forget Bunce."
The cowboy turned his head and saw the sailor. The green patch decorated one of the sailor's eyes, but the other eye taunted the luckless prisoner with an exultant gleam.
McGlory struggled desperately under Grattan's hands.
"Stop it!" ordered Grattan.
As McGlory had made no headway with his frantic struggles, he decided to obey the command.
"What are you doing out here in the woods?" inquired Grattan.
"Ease up on that throat a little," wheezed the cowboy. "Want to take the breath all out of me?" The thief's fingers relaxed slightly. "I left the road a spell ago," proceeded McGlory, "and went wide of my bearings somewhere—I don't know just where."
"Lost, eh?" laughed Grattan. "Well, my lad, you've been found."