"Right behind him, mate. Don't be afraid. Tie his thumbs together
too." I heard these words as I lay there in the darkness, and knew that
our assailants must be securing Gunson, while directly after Esau's
angry expostulations told what was going on with him.
"Let go, will you! Oh, I say, it hurts. What yer doing of? Here, hi!
Mr Gunson, Mayne Gordon, don't be such cowards as to run away and leave
a fellow. They're a-killing of me."
"Hold your row, will you," cried a gruff voice that was familiar to me
now. "There, you won't run away in a hurry. Have you tied that other
shaver up?"
"No," growled the man, who was lying across me.
"Look sharp then, and let's see what they've got to eat. Done the job
neatly this time."
"Yes," said another voice, whose words made me shudder; "bit too well,
mate. This chap's a dead 'un."
"Bah! not he. Crack on the head with a soft bit o' wood won't kill a
man. Here, let's see what they've got. Make up that fire a bit.
Plaguey dark."
While this was being said, I felt hands busy about my hands and legs,
and then a voice by me said--
"There he is, tight as a bull-calf in a butcher's cart."
Soon after the fire blazed up vividly, sending its light in amongst the
trees; and I saw the faces of the two big fellows, our old friends, and
several of the others, who, after making sure of the rifles and
revolvers, hunted out what food there was in Gunson's little tent, and
began to prepare themselves a meal.
"Don't seem to be no whiskey," said the big fellow, who was leader, as
he passed close by me; and there I lay listening, perfectly helpless,
and with my heart beating heavily with dread, as I pondered on the man's
words about Gunson.