nd materially assisting
his progress by dragging him.

Any of Percy's acquaintances would have been greatly shocked had they
been privileged to witness this triumphal midnight progress across the
moors; his dragging legs feebly trying to imitate the motions of
walking, but looking much more like kneeling, his head dropped forward
on his chest, his shoulders elevated by the grip of his conductors under
his pinioned arms, and his eyes bandaged as never a blind-man's-buff
could bind them.

It was a long weary march that; but to Percy it was luxury compared with
the morning among the flies on the hut floor. His conductors settled
into a jog-trot, which the light weight of the boy did not much impede;
and Percy, finding the motion not difficult, and on the whole soothing,
dropped off into a half-doze, which greatly assisted in passing the
time.

At length, however, he became aware of a halt and a hurried consultation
between his captors.

"Is he there? Whistle?"

Corporal gave a low whistle, which after a second or two was answered
from the hill-side.

"That's all right!" said the other, in tones of relief. "See anything
of the cart?"

Corporal peered round in the darkness.

"Yes--all right down there."

"Come on, then. Keep your eye on Jim, though, he's a mighty hand at
going more than his share."

"Trust me," growled Corporal.

Then Percy felt himself seized again and dragged forward.

In about five minutes they halted again, and the whistle was repeated.

The answer came from close at hand this time.

"All square?" whispered Corporal.

"Yes!" replied a new indistinct voice--"come on."

"Jim's screwed again," said the other man; "I can tell it by his voice;
there's no trusting him. Come on."

They had moved forward half a dozen steps more, when Corporal suddenly
found his head enveloped in a sack--a counterpart of his own--while at
the same moment the other man was borne to the ground with a great dog's
fangs buried in his neckcloth.

"Hold him!" called Jeffreys to the dog, as he himself applied his
energies to the subjugation of the struggling Corporal.

It was no easy task. But Jeffreys, lad as he was, was a young Samson,
and had his man at a disadvantage. For Corporal, entangled with the
sack and unprepared for the sudden onslaught, staggered back and fell;
and before he could struggle to his feet Jeffreys was on him, almost
throttling him. It was no time for polite fighting. If Jeffre