Half an hour later Bush McTaggart's fire was burning brightly again.

In the glow of it Baree lay trussed up like an Indian papoose, tied into a balloon-shaped ball with babiche thong, his head alone showing where his captor had cut a hole for it in the blanket.

He was hopelessly caught--so closely imprisoned in the blanket that he could scarcely move a muscle of his body.

A few feet away from him McTaggart was bathing a bleeding hand in a basin of water.

There was also a red streak down the side of McTaggart's bullish neck.
"You little devil!" he snarled at Baree.