Two men grabbed him and raised him up, holding him tightly, and they were not over careful to handle him gently, which he naturally resented. Charley stepped in front of him to go to the aid of Stevenson and caught the other boot in his groin, dropping as if he had been shot. The man on the prisoner's left emitted a yell and loosed his hold to sympathize with a bruised shinbone, and his companion promptly knocked the bound and still intoxicated man down. Bill Thomas swore and eyed the prostrate figure with resentment and regret. “Hate to hit a man who can fight like that when he's loaded an' tied. I'm glad, all the same, that he ain't sober an' loose.”
“An' you ain't going to hit him no more!” snapped Jed White, reddening with anger. “I'm ready to hang him, 'cause that's what he deserves, an' what we're here for, but I'm damned if I'll stand for any more mauling. I don't blame him for fighting, an' they didn't have no right to kick him in the beginning.”
“Didn't kick him in the beginning,” grinned Bill. “Kicked him in the ending. Anyhow,” he continued seriously, “I didn't hit him hard—didn't have to. Just let him go an' shoved him quick.”
“I'm just naturally going to clean house,” muttered the prisoner, sitting up and glaring around. “Untie my han's an' gimme a gun or a club or anything, an' watch yoreselves get licked. Called me a thief! What are you fellers, then?—sticking me up an' busting me for a few measly dollars. Why didn't you take my money an' lemme sleep, 'stead of waking me up an' kicking me? I wouldn't 'a' cared then.”
“Come on, now; get up. We ain't through with you yet, not by a whole lot,” growled Bill, helping him to his feet and steadying him. “I'm plumb glad you kicked 'em; it was coming to 'em.”
“No, you ain't; you can't fool me,” gravely assured Hopalong. “Yo're lying, an' you know it. What you going to do now? Ain't I got money enough? Wish I had an even break with you fellers! Wish my outfit was here!”
Stevenson, on his feet again, walked painfully up and shook his fist at the captive, from the side. “You'll find out what we want of you, you damned hoss-thief!” he cried. “We're going to tie you to that there limb so yore feet'll swing above the grass, that's what we're going to do.”
Bill and Jed had their hands full for a moment and as they finally mastered the puncher, Charley came up with a rope. “Hurry up—no use dragging it out this way. I want to get back to the ranch some time before next week.”
“Why I ain't no hoss-thief, you liar!” Hopalong yelled. “My name's Hopalong Cassidy of the Bar-20, an' when I tell my friends about what you've gone an' done they'll make you hard to find! You gimme any kind of a chance an' I'll do it all by myself, sick as I am, you yaller dogs!”
“Is that yore cayuse?” demanded Charley, pointing.