There was a rusty sawing noise, and Manfred looked up to discover that that was what Lemuel sounded like when he laughed. The other prisoner, firmly caught by Lemuel’s cold grip, was looking feebler by the moment. The Lemuel effect, Manfred thought, and almost smiled.

“I don’t know what you said on the phone, Shawn, but I can hear the lawmen coming from Davy already,” Lemuel said, his head cocked to the right side.

After a few more seconds, they all heard the sirens, but the first car to get there was a private car with a blue light stuck on top. It was Arthur Smith’s car, and he was out of it and among them with a speed the much younger Manfred envied. Oddly, Manfred didn’t realize his opponent had landed some good blows until he saw the sheriff. When Smith’s eyes met his, Manfred became sharply aware that his jaw hurt, and his ribs, too.

“These two men jumped us,” Bobo said, paring the story down. “It was lucky our friends came when we called.”

“Yelled like a banshee,” Manfred muttered.

By then a patrol officer was moving in right behind the sheriff, and Smith said, “Cuff this one and that one,” pointing to the two assailants. He looked from Bobo to Manfred. “I’m taking your word for it because you live here and I’ve never seen these men, so it doesn’t make sense that you attacked them.”

The one on the ground said, “Ask them where Curtis and Seth are, you think they’re so innocent.”

“Who?” Manfred said blankly.

“I don’t know a Curtis or Seth,” Shawn said. “You, Bobo?”

Bobo spread his hands, and Manfred saw that the knuckles were bleeding. “Not me.”

Lemuel said, “I don’t know them.”

“They came here,” the man insisted. “And they never came back.”

“We need to think about you, rather than your invisible friends,” Arthur Smith said, squatting beside the downed man. “You want to start with telling me your name and why you were waiting in a dark alley for these guys?”

“I don’t want to tell you shit,” the man said, trying to sneer, but not managing very convincingly. “Hey, help me up. I can stand now.”

“Oh, so your back isn’t broken?” Manfred said. He stepped back as Smith hauled the man to his feet with apparent ease. The man gasped, and Manfred saw he was in genuine pain, but as Manfred tenderly touched his own ribs, he felt no sympathy at all.

“I am a citizen of the free country of Stronghold,” the newly upright man said suddenly. “I’m not obliged to give you my slave name. My true name is Buffalo. I’m a soldier of the army of the Men of Liberty. You must treat me as a prisoner of war according to the Geneva Convention.”