But the men hesitated. “I said we’d ought to have wore masks!” muttered one. “He’s seen us all now.”
O’Brien made a quick dash, trying to circle Denny, who whirled and held the revolver pointed at O’Brien’s face.
“Jump on him now!” shouted O’Brien; and then one, bolder than the others, sprang upon Denny’s shoulders and bore him to the ground. O’Brien was instantly upon him also, got possession of his revolver, and then with breathless imprecations began winding a rope about his ankles.
“All right!” muttered Denny. “You’ve got me—but you fellows will pay for this.”
Then Ross walked into the midst of the group. The leader of the gang looked up from where he knelt. “It’s you, is it?” he said, defiantly.
Ross turned from him to the others.
“Will you give me five minutes?” he asked. “I’m in your power; I’m all alone. Will you let me have five minutes to talk?”
“Go on,” said one of the men.
“Just five minutes, mind,” said O’Brien, truculently. He tightened the rope that bound Denny’s arm behind his back and stood up.