I could hear voices, the pounding of feet behind, and I made desperate
effort to outdistance my pursuers. That they were merciless I knew,
and my only hope lay in attaining some hiding place in the weeds before
they could emerge into the daylight. I thought of nothing else. But
as I burst, straining and breathless into the open, hands gripped me
from both sides. An instant I struggled to break free, fighting with a
mad ferocity, which nearly accomplished the purpose. I had one down, a
bearded ruffian, planting my fist full in his face, and sent the other
groaning backward with a kick in the stomach, when the three from
within burst forth and flung me face down into the earth, and pinned me
flat beneath their weight. An instant later Broussard's belt was
strapped tightly, binding my hands helplessly to my sides, and I was
hurled over so that I stared up blindly into the face of the fellow in
command. His black eyes were sneering, while the unpleasant smile
revealed a row of white teeth.
"Great God, man," he exclaimed, "you must have the skull of an
elephant. Are you actually alive?"
"Very much so," I gasped, defiant still.
"Maybe I finish heem, Monsieur," questioned Broussard, with knee still
planted on my chest. "Then he not talk, hey?"
The leader laughed, with a wave of the hand.
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