The man was dragging and clutching at the brush.  He had dropped his gun.  Lorry dug the spurs into Gray Leg.  The rope came taut with a jerk.  The man rolled over, his hands snatching at the noose about his neck.  Lorry dismounted and ran to him.  He eased the loop, and swiftly slipped it over the man’s feet.

Gray Leg, who knew how to keep a rope taut better than anything else, slowly circled the fallen man.  Lorry picked up the gun and strode over to the car.  One of the women was crouching on the running-board.  In front of her, pale, straight, stiffly indignant, stood a young woman whose eyes challenged Lorry’s approach.

“It’s all right, miss.  He won’t bother you now.”

“Is he dead?” queried the girl.

“I reckon not.”

“I heard a shot.  I thought you killed him.”

“No, ma’am.  He took a crack at me.  I don’t pack a gun.”

“You’re a cowboy?” And the girl laughed nervously, despite her effort to hold herself together.

“I aim to be,” said Lorry, a trifle brusquely.

The elder woman peered through her fingers.  “Another one!” she moaned.

“No, mother.  This one is a cowboy.  It’s all right.”

“It sure is.  What was his game?”

“He told us to give him our money.”

“Uh-uh.  This is the second holdup here at the Notch this summer.”

“He’s trying to get up!” exclaimed the girl.

“My hoss’ll take care of him.”

“But your horse might drag him to death.”

“Well, it’s his own funeral, ain’t it?”

The girl’s eyes grew big.  She stepped back.  If she had only said something Lorry would have felt better.  As it was he felt decidedly uncomfortable.

“If you’ll say what is right, ma’am, I’ll do it.  You want me to turn him loose?”

“I—­No.  But can’t you do something for him?”

Lorry laughed.  “I reckon you don’t sabe them kind, miss.  And mebby you want to get that car on the road again.”

“Yes,” said the girl’s mother.  “I think this young man knows what he is about.”

Lorry stepped to the car to examine it.

The girl followed him.  “I think there is nothing broken.  We just turned to come down that hill.  We were coasting when I saw a rope stretched across the road.  I didn’t know what to do.  I tried to stop.  We slid off the edge.”

“Uh-uh.  He had it all ribbed up to stop you.  Now if you had kept on goin’—­”

“But I didn’t know what the rope meant.  I was frightened.  And before I knew what had happened he stepped right on the running-board and told us to give him our money.”

“Yes, ma’am.  If you can start her up, I’ll get my rope on the axle and help.”

“But the man might get up!” said the girl.

Lorry grinned.  A minute or two ago she had been afraid that the man wouldn’t get up.  Lorry slipped the rope from the man’s ankles and tied it to the front axle.  The girl got in the car.  The pony buckled to his work.  The machine stuttered and purred.  With a lurch it swung back into the road.  The girl’s mother rose, brushed her skirt, and stepped to the car.  Lorry unfastened the rope and reined to one side.