"Now, lie still and take orders," warned Dick, pressing one of the pistols
against the black man's temple, "or I'll get excited and send you out of
this world for keeps!"
Sambo Ebony thereupon dropped into sullen muttering, but did not offer to
resist. Prescott, as a soldier, had a businesslike way of handling weapons
that cowed the black man.
Tom got up leisurely from the prostrate foe.
"Now, you can stand a little farther off, Dick," he suggested, "and then
the fellow won't get a chance to tip you over with any trick. If he tries
to get up before he's told you can easily bring him to earth again, for
you've been taught the exact use of firearms."
"Good idea," nodded Lieutenant Prescott, backing away a few feet. "Are you
going to run for assistance now, Tom?"
"No," retorted Reade. "You're going to shoot for it."
"Eh?"
"Fire a shot into the air from each revolver. That, with the accidental
discharge of a moment go, will show any listener that there's trouble going
on over here. I miss my guess if the shots don't bring help very shortly."
Bang! Bang!
Nor was Reade's guess a wrong one. Not much time passed before steps were
heard hurrying in their direction.
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