"Don't let him pass," she implored them desperately. "It's our criminal,
Sergeant Mullins! Don't you see? The gambler!"
But Sergeant Mullins, in one swift glance, had already taken in the
situation, and as the man tried to start his machine he sprang forward and
grasped the handle bars, at the same time shouting orders to his men.
"Surround him, fellows!" he cried. "This man is under arrest!"
"What do you mean?" cried the gambler, his eyes glaring with the rage of a
cornered animal.
"Don't waste your breath, Denham," retorted Sergeant Mullins coolly, "your
reputation isn't any too good around these parts, you know, and you'll
have plenty of chance to do your shouting to the judge.
"Never mind your machine," he added sharply, as the fellow's mean eyes
glanced about desperately for means of escape. "The boys will take care
of that. And," he added meaningly, "I have rather a life-sized impression
that you won't be needing it again for some time to come!"
Denham shot him a vicious glance, and got off sullenly from his machine
while a group of soldiers stepped up smartly to take charge of it.
With his prisoner safely guarded, Sergeant Mullins ordered the march back
to camp, then drew in a long breath and looked at the girls.
"Well," he said, with his slow smile, "you did it that time."
"We!" cried Betty, her cheeks flushed with excitement and the exhilaration
of success. "I should say you did the work while we looked on.
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