Their victim made no protest. He
seemed to himself to be in some horrible dream. The only thing of
which he was conscious was the dimly descried weapon that William held
out at him in the darkness. He was hardly aware of the wastepaper
basket thrust over his head. He watched William anxiously through the
basket-work.
"Be careful," he murmured. "Be careful, boy!"
He hardly felt the skin which was fastened tightly round his
unresisting form by Peggy, the tail tied to one front paw.
Unconsciously he still clasped a bottle of brandy in each arm.
Then came the irate summons of Peggy's nurse through the dusk.
"Oh, William," she said panting with excitement, "I don't want to
leave you. Oh, William, he might _kill_ you!"
"You go on. I'm all right," he said with conscious valour. "He can't
do nothin' 'cause I've got a gun an' I can shoot him dead,"--Mr.
Percival Jones shuddered afresh,--"an' he's all tied up an' I've took
him prisoner an' I'm goin' to take him home."
"Oh, William, you are brave!" she whispered in the darkness as she
flitted away to her nurse.
William blushed with pride and embarrassment.
Mr. Percival Jones was convinced that he had to deal with a youthful
lunatic, armed with a dangerous weapon, and was anxious only to humour
him till the time of danger was over and he could be placed under
proper restraint.
Unconscious of his peculiar appearance, he walked before his captor,
casting propitiatory glances behind him.
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