"Come here, man!" cried Cameron again, seizing a second man who stood near the door and flinging him clear off the platform after the unlucky Hep.
Speedily the crowd about the door gave back, and before they were aware the Sergeant and Constable Scott appeared with big Joe Coyle between them.
"Take him!" said the Sergeant to Cameron.
Cameron seized him by the collar.
"Come here!" he said, and, clearing the platform in a spring, he brought his prisoner in a heap with him. "Get up!" he roared at him, jerking him to his feet as if he had been a child.
"Let him go!" shouted the man with the goatee, named Bill, rushing up.
"Take that, then," said Cameron, giving him a swift half-arm jab on the jaw, "and I'll come back for you again," he added, as the man fell back into the arms of his friends.
"Forward!" said the Sergeant, falling in with Constable Scott behind Cameron and facing the crowd with drawn revolvers. The swift fierceness of the attack seemed to paralyse the senses of the crowd.
"Come on, boys!" yelled the goatee man, bloody and savage with Cameron's blow. "Don't let the blank blank blank rattle you like a lot of blank blank chickens. Come on!"
At once rose a roar from eight hundred throats like nothing human in its sound, and the crowd began to press close upon the Police.
But the revolvers had an ugly appearance to those in front looking into their little black throats.
"Aw, come on!" yelled a man half drunk, running with a lurch upon the Sergeant.
"Crack!" went the Sergeant's revolver, and the man dropped with a bullet through his shoulder.
"Next man," shouted the Sergeant, "I shall kill!"
The crowd gave back and gathered round the wounded man. A stream lay in the path of the Police, crossed by a little bridge.
"Hurry!" said the Sergeant, "let's make the bridge before they come again." But before they could make the bridge the crowd had recovered from their momentary panic and, with wild oaths and yells and brandishing knives and guns, came on with a rush, led by goatee Bill.
Already the prisoner was half way across the bridge, the Sergeant and the constable guarding the entrance, when above the din was heard a roar as of some animal enraged. Looking beyond the Police the crowd beheld a fearsome sight. It was the Superintendent himself, hatless, and with uniform in disarray, a sword in one hand, a revolver in the other. Across the bridge he came like a tornado and, standing at the entrance, roared, "Listen to me, you dogs! The first man who sets foot on this bridge I shall shoot dead, so help me God!"
His towering form, his ferocious appearance and his well-known reputation for utter fearlessness made the crowd pause and, before they could make up their minds to attack that resolute little company headed by their dread commander, the prisoner was safe over the bridge and well up the hill toward the guard room. Half way up the hill the Superintendent met Cameron returning from the disposition of his prisoner.
"There's another man down there, Sir, needs looking after," he said.
"Better let them cool off, Cameron," said the Superintendent.
"I promised I'd go for him, Sir," said Cameron, his face all ablaze for battle.
"Then go for him," said the Superintendent. "Let a couple of you go along--but I am done--just now."
"We will see you up the hill, Sir," said the Sergeant.
"Come on, Scott!" said Cameron, setting off for the village once more.
The crowd had returned from the bridge and the leaders had already sought their favourite resort, the saloon. Straight to the door marched Cameron, followed by Scott. Close to the counter stood goatee Bill, loudly orating, and violently urging the breaking in of the guard room and the release of the prisoner.
"In my country," he yelled, "we'd have that feller out in about six minutes in spite of all the blank blank Police in this blank country. THEY ain't no good. They're scairt to death."
At this point Cameron walked in upon him and laid a compelling grip upon his collar. Instantly Bill reached for his gun, but Cameron, swiftly shifting his grip to his arm, wrenched him sharply about and struck him one blow on the ear. As if held by a hinge, the head fell over on one side and the man slithered to the floor.
"Out of the way!" shouted Cameron, dragging his man with him, but just as he reached the door a heavy glass came singing through the air and caught him on the head. For a moment he staggered, caught hold of the lintel and held himself steady.
"Here, Scott," he cried, "put the bracelets on him."
With revolver drawn Constable Scott sprang to his side.
"Come out!" he said to the goatee man, slipping the handcuffs over his wrists, while Cameron, still clinging to the lintel, was fighting back the faintness that was overpowering him. Seeing his plight, Hep sprang toward him, eager for revenge, but Cameron covering him with his gun held him in check and, with a supreme effort getting command of himself, again stepped towards Hep.
"Now, then," he said between his clenched teeth, "will you come?"
So terrible were his voice and look that Hep's courage wilted.
"I'll come, Colonel, I'll come," he said quickly.
"Come then," said Cameron, reaching for him and bringing him forward with a savage jerk.
In three minutes from the time the attack was made both men, thoroughly subdued and handcuffed, were marched off in charge of the constables.
"Hurry, Scott," said Cameron in a low voice to his comrade. "I am nearly in."
With all possible speed they hustled their prisoners along over the bridge and up the hill. At the hospital door, as they passed, Dr.
Martin appeared.
"Hello, Cameron!" he cried. "Got him, eh?" Great Caesar, man, what's up?" he added as Cameron, turning his head, revealed a face and neck bathed in blood. "You are white as a ghost."
"Get me a drink, old chap. I am nearly in," said Cameron in a faint voice.
"Come into my tent here," said the doctor.
"Got to see these prisoners safe first," said Cameron, swaying on his feet.
"Come in, you idiot!" cried the doctor.
