“I’m in a fearfully cramped position,” explained Bert, meekly.  “Do you mind if I stand up for a minute and stretch?”

“Red” cogitated a moment.

“No law agin it, I reckon,” he conceded ungraciously.

Bert labored painfully and clumsily to his feet, yawned wearily and stretched his arms above his head.  Then with one quick jerk he burst the rope and went into “Red” like a thunderbolt.  Before that crashing impact of bone and muscle that had triumphed on many a football field, the startled outlaw hit the floor with a tremendous thump, while Bert’s sinewy hands tightened on his throat.

But there was no resistance, and after a moment Bert relaxed his grasp.  The rustler’s head had struck on the sill of the door and the blow had rendered him unconscious.

Springing to his feet, Bert grasped the knife that lay on the table, and sawed desperately at the ends of rope that dangled about his feet.  A few minutes sufficed and he was free.  Then he took the revolver from the belt of his fallen enemy, and, after a swift glance round the clearing, bolted for the woods like a deer.

He had almost reached cover when he heard a yell behind him and a bullet zipped past his head.  He turned and saw one of the outlaws rushing from the corral behind the house, while others, attracted by the shot, were running to mount their horses.  Then he dived into the woods and ran for his life.

Through the forest aisles he slipped like a shadow, and for a time he more than held his own.  But his pursuers had the advantage of knowing the ground, while he had to choose his course on the spur of the moment.  He lost precious seconds in dodging obstacles, and he could hear the clatter of horses coming nearer and nearer.  At any moment a bullet might bring him down.

The wound in his head was bleeding now under his tremendous exertions, and he began to grow dizzy and faint.  But, although his strength was ebbing, his heart was as high and his spirit as undaunted as ever.  He would never surrender.  As a last resource he had his revolver, and, if he had to die, he would take some of the outlaws with him.  The thud of hoofs was nearer now, and bullets began to whiz past him.  A voice that he knew was that of the leader of the gang shouted to him to halt.  Before him was a thinning of the woods that indicated open country.  On a level course they could never get him.  His second wind was coming back and he would distance them yet.  On, on, he went, running like the wind.

A few rods ahead the trail bent round in a sweeping curve, and as Bert approached it on flying feet, he heard horsemen coming from that direction.  With a groan he halted.  They had him surrounded, then.  He had no chance.  The game was up.  He drew his revolver and dropped on his knee to aim.

And then round the curve with a rush and a roar, riding like fiends, came Melton, Dick and Tom, with twenty cowboys at their back.