A RECONNAISSANCE
blow, the breath squeezed out of him, too thoroughly astounded to struggle. I never had an easier job at taming a man, and before he got his scattered senses together I pressed a revolver barrel against his temple, threatening instant death if he so much as moved. Whatever other ambitions Lieutenant Calvert Dunn may have possessed, departure from life was surely not included, and I doubt If he winked an eyelash while I stripped him of weapons, and tightly buckled his waistbelt about his arms, binding them helplessly against the body.
"Sorry to be compelled to treat you in this manner," I remarked coolly, "but it seems to be your luck to get in my way constantly. Besides, I believe you advocated hanging me only a few hours ago."
He recognized me then, and the sudden gust of anger overcame his prudence, yielding him voice. He burst forth into a volley of oaths.
"Stop that!" the words like bullets, the grip of my hand shutting off his wind. "I hold your life in this one finger and you either obey me, or die. How many men are about this house?"
He squirmed under the pressure of the gun barrel, but comprehended the necessity for an immediate answer.
"About sixty."
"All Donald's guerillas?"
"Except the small squad I brought with me."
"How are they posted?"
"Thirty or so in front of the house; perhaps a dozen at the rear; the others scattered so as to watch the side windows."
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