"The police are coming," roared the fellow, rendered desperate by his beating.
"Let them come, if they will, but ye shan't go," cried the doctor, sitting astride of his fallen foe and glancing at Fred and I in triumph, while the perspiration streamed down his face in torrents.
"I saw the police trotting down the road," yelled the fallen man.
"Who calls the police?" cried a deep-toned voice near at hand.
I knew the speaker well, although I confess that it started me to hear him so unexpectedly, and looking up I saw that Murden sat on his horse, a few paces off, calmly surveying the strange group before him. At a short distance were six of his men, also mounted and drawn up in line awaiting their chief's solution of the difficulty.
"I think that my presence is needed here if you intend to murder that fellow, doctor," Murden said, good naturedly, addressing O'Haraty, who kept his position, looking somewhat foolish at being caught.
"The mane scamp," began the doctor, when Murden checked him.
"What, is the cause of the gathering, and why do I find an officer of her majesty, lying on the ground wounded and insensible?"
"Why, the fact of it is, Mr. Officer," Merriam began, but apparently afraid of the consequences, he stopped and looked hard towards the doctor, as though asking him to take up the answer and carry it through in the best manner possible.
"O, the divils," roared the doctor, rising from his seat, much to the relief of the driver, who apparently thanked God that he was rid of such an incumbrance.