No
words passed. The rider had kicked his feet out of the stirrups and
gripped the horse hard with his legs. His arms were flung up to protect
his head, over which Zmai tried to force the sack.
"The knife?" bawled the Servian.
"No!" answered Chauvenet.
"The devil!" yelled the rider; and dug his spurs into the rearing beast's
flanks.
Chauvenet held on valiantly with both hands to the horse's head. Once the
frightened beast swung him clear of the ground. A few yards distant
Durand sat on his own horse and held the bridles of the others. He
soothed the restless animals in low tones, the light of his cigarette
shaking oddly in the dark with the movement of his lips.
The horse ceased to plunge; Zmai held its rider erect with his left arm
while the right drew the sack down over the head and shoulders of the
prisoner.
"Tie him," said Chauvenet; and Zmai buckled a strap about the man's arms
and bound them tight.
The dust in the bag caused the man inside to cough, but save for the one
exclamation he had not spoken. Chauvenet and Durand conferred in low
tones while Zmai drew out a tether strap and snapped it to the curb-bit
of the captive's horse.
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