But why had they ridden in this direction?
What object could they have in thus attacking me?
They afforded me little opportunity for solving these problems.

Had I been a bale of tobacco I could not have been treated with less ceremony, the white man unclasping my belt, while the Indian, with a grunt, flung me over on my face, and began binding hands and feet.

I kicked him once, sending him tumbling backward, but he only came back silently, with more cruel twist of the rope, while the boy laughed, bending over his horse's neck.
"Hoist him up on the black, lads," he said shortly, reining back out of the way.

"Delavan's horse, isn't it?
Yes, tie his feet underneath, and one of you keep a hand on the reins.

Peter, you and Cass ride with him.