"Order the dog away," said Matt to the farmer. "I want to talk with the Chinaman, and we'll take him into the barn where we can both sit down on something and rest a little. We've had a hard chase."
The farmer spoke to the dog and the animal slunk away, still keeping his glittering eyes on Sam Wing.
"Looks purty meachin', don't he?" muttered the farmer, peering at the prisoner.
"He's a bad Chinaman," returned Matt, "and he knows it. Get up, Sam Wing," he added, "and go into the barn. Don't try to do any more running. You haven't strength enough to go far, and it won't be best for you."
With wary eyes on the dog, Wing got up and moved toward the barn door. When they were all inside, Matt took down a coil of rope that swung from a nail and started toward the prisoner.
"What yew goin' to do, friend?" asked the farmer.
"Tie him," replied Matt.
"That ain't necessary. Tige is better'n all the ropes that was ever made. All I got ter do is ter tell him ter watch the heathen, an' yew can bet a pair o' gum boots he'll do it."
The farmer spoke to the dog, that had followed them into the barn, and the animal drew close to Sam Wing and sat down within biting distance. Matt, satisfied with the arrangement for the time being, dropped the rope and seated himself on the tongue of a wagon.