this is a bad affair for a woman to be mixed up in. Be sensible. We are in a hurry."
"Well, you seem to have acquired at least one American habit!" said a gruff voice from the bed-room doorway. "Raise your hands quickly, and don't turn," went on the gruff voice. "If I shoot it will be to kill. It is a rough game, as you say. That's it; and keep them up. Now, then, young lady, slip on your kimono. Get up and search these men. I'm in a hurry, too."
Kitty obeyed, very lovely in her dishevelment. Repugnant as the task was she disarmed the two men and flung their weapons on the bed.
"Now something to tie their hands; anything that will hold."
Kitty could see the speaker now. Another coal heaver, but evidently on her side.
"Tie their hands behind them. … I warn you not to move, men. When I say I'll shoot I mean it. Don't be afraid of hurting them, miss. Very good. Now bandage their eyes. Handkerchiefs."
But Kitty's handkerchiefs did not run to the dimensions required; so she ripped up a petticoat. Torn between her eagerness to complete a disagreeable task and her offended modesty, Kitty went through the performance with creditable alacrity. Then she jumped back into bed, doubled her knees, and once more drew up the bedclothes to her chin,
