I don't believe, if I were you, I'd say anything just now."
"I'm not going to say anything more," Tag retorted moodily, yet
with a flash of somewhat sullen gratitude to Prescott.
"Humph! You'd better talk, and get all you know out of your system,"
advised Deputy Valden contemptuously. "And the first thing you'd
better own up to is pulling the missing planks up from this crazy
old bridge."
Tag snorted, yet had no word to say. Instead, as best he could
with his hands in the steel bracelets, he helped himself to a
seat on the ground his back against a tree. Either he was extremely
weary, or he was pretending cleverly.
"Come! I guess you can talk better standing up," admonished Deputy
Valden, seizing Tag by the coat collar and dragging him to his
feet. Mosher accepted the implied order in sullen silence.
"Is it necessary, Mr. Valden, to torment the prisoner?" asked
Dick quietly.
"The way I handle a prisoner is my business," replied Valden rather
crisply.
"You'd rather sit down, wouldn't you,
Tag?" Dick inquired. Young Mosher answered only with a nod.
"It makes you feel weaker to stand, doesn't it?" Prescott continued.
Another nod.
"Mr. Valden," Dick pressed, "I hope you won't think me too forward,
but I believe this prisoner, and I am going to urge you to let
him find comfort by sitting down and resting.
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