The moment the door opened, two small Moderns scampered out clean into the arms of the expectant kidnapper, who before they had time so much as to inquire who he was or what he wanted, had a grip on the coat-collar of each, and was racing them as hard as their short legs could carry them across the grass.
"Let go, you cad!" squeaked one, presently.

"What we you doing!" "It's only fun," said Ashby, encouragingly; "come along." The other prisoner was more practical.

He tried to bite his captor's hand, and when he failed in that, he tried to kick.

But though he succeeded better in this, the pace was kept up and the grip on his collar, if anything, tightened.

Whereupon he attempted to sit down.
But that, though it retarded the progress, was still insufficient to arrest it.