There was no time to dodge. One of the riflemen below received the impact of the descending weapon squarely on top of his head and he keeled over, falling into a bush.

"You said all you wanted was my revolver," announced Sergeant Hal.

"Well, you have it. Now on your way with it."

The dropped revolver had been picked up by another of the crowd, and now two men raised their guns to shoot Hal Overton out of the tree.

But their leader struck down their guns.

"None of that, unless we have to," he commanded. "The sergeant's a game one, and he's not to blame for trying to defend his camp. He can't do any more harm now, and I won't have him hurt unless he forces us to do it. Now, then, young man, are you coming down out of that tree?"

"Why?" challenged Hal. "You said that all you wanted was my revolver.

You have that now, and all the rifles in camp. What do you need of me?"

"We've got to slip away from here quick," retorted the leader with a deceptive show of good-nature and fair-mindedness. "But do you think, Sergeant, we're going to be fools enough to dust out of here and leave you to come down out of the tree and trail us along, then come back here for help and bag us all. No, no, young man! We know the regulars, and we're not going to leave any cards in the hands of the fighting line of the Army."

"But it's so comfortable up here," objected Hal.

"I'm going to give you, Sergeant, until I count three. Then, if you haven't started, we'll simply have to bring you down like a cantankerous grizzly. Or, if you start and then stop again, we'll shoot just the same. We can't afford to waste any more time talking."

Where had Hal seen this man before? Where and when had he heard that voice?

Face and voice both seemed strangely familiar, yet, to save him, Overton could not place the fellow at that moment.

"One!" counted the leader, and Hal saw three rifle muzzles pointed at him.

"Two!"

"All right! I'm the 'c.o.o.n. Be with you in a minute, Davy Crockett,"

laughed Sergeant Hal Overton.

It was hard luck, but the soldier boy felt that he had made all the fight that could be expected of any one. There seemed no sense in being killed for sheer stubbornness, now that he had not a ghost of a chance of fighting back.

Having once started groundward, Overton continued to descend rapidly.

As he reached the last limb on his descent he took a swift slide and landed among his captors.

"Good boy," mimicked the leader of the invaders. "Now continue to be sensible. Just lie down on your face and put your hands behind your back the way your two men did. Nothing happened to them and nothing worse will happen to you."

The wretch's words were smooth and oily. To Hal it really looked as though this fellow respected gameness enough not to take it out on a defenseless enemy.

So Hal lay face downward and gave up his hands for binding.

Wrap! wrap! He felt the cord pa.s.sing swiftly around his wrists, and then an extra turn was taken around his ankles.

"Your name's Overton, isn't it?" asked the leader with a wicked grin on his face.

"Yes."

"Then you're the man we want."

"From the way you acted I judged that you wanted me," mocked Hal dryly.

"Yes; but we wanted you for more than general reasons. In fact, we want you, most of all, for purely personal reasons. Or, at least, one of our fellows does. Here he comes."

An eighth man of the wretched crew now came swiftly forward from the hiding that he had kept from the first.

As he came he chuckled maliciously, and Hal Overton knew that sinister laugh.

Then the fellow halted, bending over the prostrate, tied young sergeant.

The face was the face of that evil deserter from the Army--ex-Private Hinkey!

CHAPTER XXI

THE ENEMY HAS HIS INNINGS

"I'D much better have stayed up the tree and been shot out of it!"

flashed through Sergeant Hal's startled brain.

"Howdy!" jeered Hinkey, leering wickedly. "Didn't expect to see me, did you?"

"No," Hal admitted frankly.

"It's my inning now, Overton."

"It looks like it."

"And I'm to have my own way with you--you officers' boot-lick!"

"That's a lie, Hinkey, and you know it!" broke in the deep, indignant voice of Private Dietz. "Overton's a man, first, last and always. He's worth a million of your kind."

"Good!" added Private Johnson valiantly. "And true, too! I never realized it until to-day, either."

"Oh, you both hold your tongues," ordered Hinkey, glaring over at the pair of bound soldiers who lay beyond. "You fellows are no good, either.

No man that'll stay in the Army is any good."

"I'm glad to know why you left, Hinkey," jeered Dietz. "I've wondered a lot about that."

"Oh, have you?" snarled Hinkey. "n.o.body but a boot-lick would stay in the Army, and I don't lick any man's boots, not for the whole Army."

"Come, hurry up, Hink, and have your grudge satisfied, and come along.

We don't want to be caught by a lot of soldiers. All the shooting we've done here will be sure to attract the hunters."

"No it won't," rejoined Hinkey. "We trailed the hunting parties, and they went out in three squads, in three different directions. Now, any of the hunters that hear a lot of firing will only think that one of the other parties has run into a lot of game."