ced quickly and silently. At the
corner I peered about, scarcely daring to breathe, but with heart
pounding, as I caught sight of the fellow, not over three feet distant.
He was seated on an overturned bucket, his back toward me, both hands
clasping a musket, his head bent slightly forward. He seemed listening
to some noise in the distance, totally unconscious of my approach. The
man's fingers were nowhere near the trigger of his gun, and my straining
eyes could perceive no sign of any other weapon. This had to be silent
work--silent and swift. With one step forward I had my revolver pressed
hard against his cheek, my other hand crushing his fingers to
the musket.

"Keep quiet, man! Not a move! I'll blow your head off if you lift a
hand!"

"Oh! Good God!"

He was but little more than a boy; I could see his face now under the
slouch hat, and I had already frightened the life half out of him.

"Drop your gun! Now stand up!" He obeyed like an automaton, his brain
seemingly paralyzed. There was nothing to fear from this fellow, yet I
knew better than to become careless--terror has been known to drive men
crazy. 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. Come, stand up to it; this is better than getting killed, isn't
it? Now here is a nice soft spot to lie on, and I guess you'll remain
there for a while. Do you want me to gag you, or will you keep still?"

"I'll--I'll keep still!"

"Well, be sure you do; your life isn't worth a picayune if you raise any
row."

I arose to my feet, confident the boy had been safely disposed of, and
feeling blindly around in the darkness, seeking to locate the stalls.
At that inst