I caught him by the collar, whirling him about, my Colt still at his ear.
"Go straight to the stable door, son!" "Who--who are you?
W--what do you want ?" "Don't stop to ask questions--you trot, unless you want to get hurt.

Do you hear me ?--the stable door! That's it; now undo the button, open the door, and go inside." I held him like a vice, assured his belt contained no weapons, and thrust him forward against the wall.

He was so helpless in my grasp that it was like handling a child.
"Feel along there--higher up--and tell me what you find.

Well, what is it ?" "A--a bridle," his voice barely audible.
"Halter strap on it ?" "Yes, sir." "Take it off, and hand it back here.

Now go on, and feel the next stake." "There's a blanket, and--and a rope halter." "Good! give me that; now, son, put both hands back here, cross the wrists.