Then he struggled to break loose.
“You promised to let me go,” he cried, indignantly.
“Is this the way you reward me for saving your life?”
Bogle laughed harshly.
“Keep quiet,” he said, “or I’ll have to tap you on the head with this rifle stock. What sort of a greenhorn do you take me for? I would have promised anything to get out of that place.”
Brick ceased to struggle. He knew it was useless. With a sinking heart he marched back through the swamp, held tightly by his ruffianly captor.
They soon came in sight of the cabin. When they crossed the threshold they met with a surprise. Raikes was sitting on the bed with a clean white bandage wrapped around his forehead.
“That you, Joe?” he said, feebly. “Where have you been? Did the lad escape?”
Bogle hastily explained.
“I’m sorry for what happened, old man,” he added. “It was an accident, and I was to blame. I thought you were dead when I dashed out of the cabin after this young scamp here.”