knife!" Zack called from behind. Spottiswoode held Cap's wrists firmly, and whispered, "You stand still. Zack, chuck that knife in the creek." Overboard went a long knife in a leather sheath. "Now feel his pockets," the Colonel ordered.
Zack searched diligently and said, "He ain't got nuthin' else, Cunnel."
The big gambler breathed heavily; even he was no match for a seasoned bear-hunter who could sit his saddle for a week. Before the Colonel released Cap's wrists they held a one-sided, but mighty straight conversation, which ended with the Colonel's instruction, "Wright, don't you leave this deck until I come back. Understand me? Zack, watch this door, and holler if he tries to come in. I'll hear you."
"Yas, suh, Cunnel." Zack's teeth gleamed and his eyes showed white, like a runaway mustang, as he guarded the bulky Cap. "I'll sho holler."
