Ned grunted.

“I’d hate to have you land on me that way.  That surely was a sockdolager.  He has his eyes open.”

“Oh, hullo!” greeted Butler.  “We rather turned the tables on you, didn’t we?”

“I’ll kill you for this!” growled the prisoner hoarsely.

“I don’t think you will kill anybody to-night.  What I would like to know is what you mean by trying to shoot us up.”

“I’ll shoot up the rest of you before I get through with you, you and your whole gang.  You can tell Bill McKay what I say and—–­”

“We don’t know Bill McKay.  We have nothing to do with any of you people down here.  We are here for pleasure.”

“That’s what the other cayuse said.  Looks like you wuz, hey?”

“You alone are to blame for present conditions.  We were not looking for you.  You began shooting at us before we got into the foothills.  Who were you shooting at the last time?  I mean before you tried to pot me just now.”

A growl was the only answer.

“The question is, what are we going to do with this fellow, Tad?” asked Ned.  “Surely it won’t be safe to let him go, and we can’t leave him here to starve to death.”

“No.  I’ll tell you what.  We will fix up a litter—–­by the way, fellow, are there any more of your kind fooling about here?”

“You’ll find out whether there are or not,” grunted the prisoner.

“Thank you.  You have answered my question.  I now know you are alone.  Ned, can you cut down a couple of saplings?”

“Where do you want to carry him?”

“Down to the fork.”

“Then let’s drag him.  Dragging is good enough for that ruffian—–­too good for him.  He ought to be shot, then rolled down the hill.”

“Don’t be bloodthirsty.  Prisoners of war should be treated with the utmost courtesy and consideration.  I guess perhaps we had better not take the time to make a litter.  We can carry him down to the fork.  Take hold of the feet.  I’ll take the heavier end.  And you, fellow!  You will get along much better if you keep quiet.  Remember, no yells nor struggles, else I shall be obliged to put you to sleep as I did a short time since.  Do you understand?”

There was no reply to the question.

“All right.  Pick him up, Ned,” directed Tad.

“Are you going to take his rifle?”

“Yes, I guess perhaps it would be best.  The rifle is good evidence,” decided Butler.

Tad strapped the weapon to his own back.  He did not bother to pick up the revolver or the bowie knife.  The rifle was the evidence that he wanted to take with him.  Then they gathered their prisoner up.  He proved a heavy burden, though fortunately the distance was short to the fork where Tad had decided to carry the man.  The fellow had nothing to say, but the expression in his eyes made up for what his lips did not utter.  The two boys were glad enough when finally they reached their destination and dropped their burden, though none too gently at that.