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. Come, stand up to it; this is better than getting killed, isn't