Instantly, the stranger--standing close and taking advantage of the girl's
position as she stooped toward him from the saddle--caught her in his
powerful arms and lifted her to the ground. At the same moment, the man's
companion who, under cover of the darkness and the noise of the machine,
had drawn close to the other side of the horse, caught the bridle-rein.
Before the girl, taken so off her guard could cry out, a softly-rolled,
silk handkerchief was thrust between her lips and skillfully tied in
place. She struggled desperately; but, against the powerful arms of her
captor, her splendid, young strength was useless. As he bound her hands,
the man spoke reassuringly; "Don't fight, Miss. I'm not going to hurt you.
I've got to do this; but I'll be as easy as I can. It will do you no good
to wear yourself out."
Frightened as she was, the girl felt that the stranger was as gentle as
the circumstances permitted him to be. He had not, in fact, hurt her at
all; and, in his voice, she caught a tone of genuine regret. He seemed to
be acting wholly against his will; as if driven by some power that
rendered him, in fact, as helpless as his victim.
The other man, still standing by the horse's head, spoke sharply; "All
right there?"
"All right, sir," gruffly answered the man who held Sibyl, and lifting the
helpless girl gently in his arms he seated her carefully in the machine.
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