"Now hand me your weapons—butts first, remember."
The pistols were handed over.
"Now pick up that parole your leader tore and threw down, and hand it to me."
This was done.
Calhoun sat eyeing him a moment, and then continued: "I ought to shoot you without mercy, but I believe in giving a dog a chance for his life, and so I will give you a chance. You mount your horse, and when I say 'Go,' you go. After I say 'Go' I shall count five, and then shoot. If I miss you, which I don't think I shall, I shall continue shooting as long as you are in range; so the faster you go, the better for you. Now, mount."
The man looked appealingly at Calhoun, but seeing no mercy, mounted his horse as quick as his trembling limbs would let him. His face was white with fear, and his teeth fairly rattled they chattered so.
Calhoun reined his horse around so he was by the fellow's side. Then he shouted "Go!"
The man gave a yell of terror, bent low over his horse's neck and was off like a shot. Calhoun with a chuckle fired over him, and the fellow seemed to fairly flatten out. Four times did Calhoun fire, and at each report the flying horseman appeared to go the faster.
As for Fred, he was convulsed with merriment, notwithstanding the grewsome surroundings.