The buckskin ducked and danced sidewise at the end of the
rope in Shorty's hand, and more than one gun flashed into sight at the
unexpectedness of the move.
The Captain scowled at the exclamations of admiration from the crowd.
"You needn't try any funny work, young man, or I'll tie you hand as
well as foot!" he threatened sternly. "Give me that rope, Davis."
Then Jack paid in pain for his vanity, and paid in full. The Captain
did not bind his arms--perhaps because of the crowd and a desire to
seem merciful. But though he merely tied the prisoner's ankle after
the usual manner, he knotted the small rope with a vicious yank,
pulled it as tight as he could and passed the rope under the flinching
belly of the buckskin to Davis, on the other side. Also he sent a
glance of meaning which the other read unerringly and obeyed most
willingly. Davis drew the rope taut under the cinch and tied Jack's
other ankle as if he were putting the diamond hitch on a pack mule.
The two stepped back and eyed him sharply for some sign of pain, when
all was done.
"Thanks," drawled Jack. "Sorry I can't do as much for you." Whereupon
he set his teeth against the growing agony of strained muscles and
congesting arteries, and began to roll a cigarette with fingers which
he held rigidly from trembling.
Bill Wilson, returning gloomily to the doorway of his place, grated an
oath and turned away his head.
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