Kirby rested exactly as he had fallen,
and I stared down at the dim outlines of his distended body, unable to
comprehend how my swift blow could have wrought such damage. I bent
over him wonderingly, half believing he feigned unconsciousness. The
fellow was alive, but his head lay upon a bit of jagged rock--this was
what had caused serious injury, not the impact of my fist. Kennedy had
one hard knee pressed into Rale's abdomen and the star-rays reflected
back the steel glimmer of the pistol held threateningly before the
man's eyes. The horses beyond stood motionless, and the two women in
the saddles appeared like silent shadows. I stood up once more,
peering through the darkness and listening. Whatever was to be done, I
must decide, and quickly.
"Have Rale stand up, but keep him covered. Don't give him any chance
to break away; now wait---there is a lariat rope hanging to this
saddle; I'll get it."
It was a strong cord and of good length, and we proceeded to bind the
fellow securely in spite of his objections, I taking charge of the
pistol, while Tim, who was more expert, did the job in a workmanlike
manner. Rale ventured no resistance, although he made no effort to
restrain his tongue.
"Thar ain't no use pullin' thet rope so tight, yer ol' fule. By God,
but yer goin' ter pay fer all this. Maybe ye think ye kin git away in
this kintry, but I'll show ye. Damn nice trick yer two played, wa'n't
it? The lafe will be on 'tother side afore termorrer night.
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