"Now, young feller," he said to Ted, "I'm goin' ter give yer a chance fer yer white alley. I'm goin' ter try ter rope yer while yer dodges me. If I get yer, why—I'll drag yer, see?"
Ted saw that he was to have no chance for his life whatever.
He was to be afoot, while the other man was to ride and try to rope him, and, if he succeeded, drag him to death over the rough ground.
"Do you call that a chance for my life?" asked Ted.
"As much as you'll get," answered Woofer, with a canine grin. "Get out an' take a fightin' chance, or I'll rope yer an' drag yer without it."
Ted looked around the circle of grinning faces about him, and saw that there was no mercy for him. He must make the best fight he could.
Woofer had ridden out into the open and was coiling his rope in his hand ready for a cast.
As Ted walked out he saw in the grove the horses of the soldiers, and among them Sultan bridled and saddled, and a thought flashed through his mind that before the duel was ended he might find use for his beautiful stallion.
As soon as Ted was in the open, Woofer began to circle around him on a lope, steadily increasing the pony's speed, at the same time keeping the rope swinging about his head.
Ted wheeled on his heels, always keeping his face to the horseman, the pivot, as it were, of this little spectacle. Near the cabin stood the soldiers, watching the play with interest. Stella and Hallie were at one side, their eyes fastened on the scene with a sort of fascinated horror. Stella knew well the danger of the bout. In the doorway of the cabin Lieutenant Barrows leaned indifferently, smoking a cigarette, and watching the uneven contest with slight interest in its outcome, and with no regard whatever for the thing which all gentlemen hold sacred, that is, fair play.