“You play fair and we will.  I give my word!” shouted Nueces.

“Here goes!” Pringle pitched the rifle over.  A moment later he staggered out between the rocks, bearing Foy’s heavy weight in his arms.  The head hung helpless, blood-spattered; the body was limp and slack; the legs dragged sprawling; the dreaded hands were bound.

Pringle laid his burden on the grass.

“Here he is, you hyenas!  His hands are tied—­are you still afraid of him?  Damn you!  The man’s bleeding to death!”

Chapter VI

“You treacherous, dirty hound!” said Breslin.

“Of all the low-down skunks I ever seen, you sure are the skunkiest!” said Nueces.  “The sheriff was right after all.  Cur-dog fits you to a T.”  He finished washing out the cut on Foy’s head as he spoke.  “Now the bandages, Anastacio.  We’ll have the blood stopped in a jiffy.  Funny he hasn’t come to.  It’s been a long while.  It ain’t the head ails him.  This isn’t such a deep cut; it oughtn’t to put him out.  Just happened to strike a vein.”  He bound up the cut with the deftness of experience.

“I hit him under the jaw,” observed Pringle.  “That’s what did the business for him.  He’ll be around directly.”

Anastacio looked up at Pringle; measureless contempt was in his eyes.

“Judas Iscariot could have sublet his job to you at half price if you’d been in the neighborhood.  You are the limit, plus!  I hope to see you fry in a New English hell!”

“Oh, that’s all right, too,” said Pringle unabashed.  “I might just as well have that forty-five hundred as anyone.  It wouldn’t amount to much split amongst all you fellows, but it’s quite a bundle for one man.  That’ll keep the wolf from the well-known door for quite a while.”

“You won’t touch a cent of it!” declared the sheriff.

“Won’t I though?  We’ll see about that.  I captured him alone, didn’t I?  Oh, I reckon I’ll finger the money, alrighty!”

“Here, fellows; give him a bait of whisky,” said Creagan.

Breslin, kneeling at Foy’s side, took the extended flask.  They administered the stimulant cautiously, a sip at a time.  Foy’s eyes flickered; his breath came freer.

“He’s coming!” said Breslin.  “Give him a sip of water now.”

“He’ll be O.K. in five minutes, far as settin’ up goes,” said old Nueces, well pleased; “but he ain’t goin’ to be any too peart for quite some time—­not for gettin’ down off o’ this hill.  See—­he’s battin’ his eyes and working his hands around.  He sure heard the birdies sing!”

“The rest of you boys had just as well go on down to the shack,” directed the sheriff.  “Creagan and Joe and me will take care of Foy till he’s able to move or be moved, and bring him into camp.  You just lead up our three horses and an extra one for Foy—­up as far as you can fetch ’em.  One of you can ride home behind someone.  Call down to the bunch under the cliff that we’ve got ’em, and for them to hike out to the ranch and take a nap.  You’d better turn old Vorhis loose—­and that girl.  They can’t do any harm now.”