“Let me get it,” he growled, “and I’ll make a sieve of that cur!”
He was given little time to search. Bunol recovered quickly. He saw the other feeling about on the ground. Crouching, he half rose and launched himself at Brad.
The boy from the Pan Handle country, however, was on the alert, and, with equal swiftness, he sprang aside.
The Spaniard missed his intended victim, but the knife in his fingers struck fire from a stone, on which it was broken near the hilt.
A snarl of dismay escaped the lips of the murderous wretch.
Then Buckhart grappled with him again.
Brad did not know the knife was broken, so he made a grab at Miguel’s wrist to prevent him from slashing.
“Whoop!” came from the lips of the Texan. “This sure is the real thing in the way of a scrimmage. It’s a right long time since I’ve been in one like this.”
Bunol cursed bitterly. At last he realized that his antagonist could not be seriously wounded. Although he did his best to break away, the American lad hurled him down and held him.
One of Brad’s hands found Miguel’s throat.