"Crack!" went the Sergeant's revolver, and the man dropped with a bullet
through his shoulder.
"Next man," shouted the Sergeant, "I shall kill!"
The crowd gave back and gathered round the wounded man. A stream lay in
the path of the Police, crossed by a little bridge.
"Hurry!" said the Sergeant, "let's make the bridge before they come
again." But before they could make the bridge the crowd had recovered
from their momentary panic and, with wild oaths and yells and
brandishing knives and guns, came on with a rush, led by goatee Bill.
Already the prisoner was half way across the bridge, the Sergeant and
the constable guarding the entrance, when above the din was heard a roar
as of some animal enraged. Looking beyond the Police the crowd beheld
a fearsome sight. It was the Superintendent himself, hatless, and with
uniform in disarray, a sword in one hand, a revolver in the other.
Across the bridge he came like a tornado and, standing at the entrance,
roared,
"Listen to me, you dogs! The first man who sets foot on this bridge I
shall shoot dead, so help me God!"
His towering form, his ferocious appearance and his well-known
reputation for utter fearlessness made the crowd pause and, before they
could make up their minds to attack that resolute little company headed
by their dread commander, the prisoner was safe over the bridge and
well up the hill toward the guard room.
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