"No. Much obliged, Peters," Meeker replied. "Why, yes I have, too. Here, use this," and he quickly untied his neck-kerchief and gave it to his friend. Buck took the one from around Hall's neck and the two foremen gave a deft and practical exhibition of how to tie a man so he cannot get loose. Meeker took the Winchester from Hall's back, the Colt and the cartridge belt, and gave them to Buck, laughing.
"Seventy-three model; .44 caliber," he explained. "You'll find it better than th' six-shooter, an' you'll have plenty of cartridges for it, too."
"But don't you want it?" asked Buck, hesitating.
"Nope. I left one around th' corner here. I can get along with it till I get my own from th' camp."
"All right, Jim. I'll be glad to keep this—it'll come in handy."
"Tough luck, finding them fellers in such a strong layout," Meeker growled, glancing around at the prisoner. "Ah, got yore eyes open, hey?" he ejaculated as Hall glared at him. "How many of you fellers are up here, anyhow?"
"Five thousand!" snapped Hall. "It took two of you to get me!" he blazed. "Got my guns, too, ain't you? Hope they bust an' blow yore cussed heads off!"
"Thanks, stranger, thanks," Buck replied, turning to leave. "But Meeker had you licked good—I only hurried it to save time. Coming, Jim?"
"Shore. But do you think this thief can get loose?"
Buck paused, searching his pockets, and smiled as he brought to light a small, tight roll of rawhide thongs. "Here, this'll keep him down," and when they had finished their prisoner could move neither hands nor feet. They looked at him critically and then went away towards the firing, the rustler cursing them heartily.