Goodbye, old man. Tell the sergeant not to follow.
Trails hereabout are dangerous and good police sergeants are scarce.
Again farewell." He swung his broncho off the trail and, waving his
hand, with a smile, disappeared into the thick underbrush.
"Hold up your hands!" shouted the police officer, who had struggled
upright and was now swaying on his feet and covering Cameron with his
carbine.
"Hurry! Hurry!" cried Cameron, springing from his pony and waving his
hands wildly in the air. "Come on. You'll get him yet."
"Stand where you are and hold up your hands!" cried the sergeant.
Cameron obeyed, shouting meanwhile wrathfully, "Oh, come on, you bally
fool! You are losing him. Come on, I tell you!"
"Keep your hands up or I shoot!" cried the sergeant sternly.
"All right," said Cameron, holding his hands high, "but for God's sake
hurry up!" He ran towards the sergeant as he spoke, with his hands still
above his head.
"Halt!" shouted the sergeant, as Cameron came near. "Constable Burke,
arrest that man!"
"Oh, come, get it over," cried Cameron in a fury of passion. "Arrest me,
of course, but if you want to catch that chap you'll have to hurry. He
cannot be far away."
"Ah, indeed, my man," said the sergeant pleasantly. "He is not far
away?"
"No, he's a murderer and a thief and you can catch him if you hurry.
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