"That's an old dodge, Rasco, but you can't work it off on me. I have you alone and I'm going to end the business right here."
"Not yet!" cried a youthful voice behind Stillwater, and crash! down came a heavy stick, hitting the gambler squarely upon the head and sending him with a thud to the earth.
As Stillwater went down, Rasco leaped forward and came down upon him. But this movement was useless. The rascal was more than three-quarters knocked out and lay for several minutes helpless.
"I owe you one fer that, Dick Arbuckle!" cried Rasco, gratefully. "Yer came in the nick o' time!" Now the peril was over the boomer dropped back into his own peculiar manner of speech.
"I am glad I happened this way," returned Dick, as he drew a long breath. "Gosh! what a lot of excitement we are passing through out here! More than I experienced in all my life in New York."
"The West is the place fer stirrin' times, lad." Jack Rasco turned to his prostrate foe. "Wall, Stillwater, do yer think it war a trick now, tellin' yer ter look behind yer?"
The rascal answered with a groan.
"My head is split in two!" he cried. "Who struck me? What, that boy? I'll remember you, youngster, and some day——" He did not finish.
"I ain't done with yer yet, Stillwater," said Rasco. "You war goin' ter shoot me. I reckon turn about is fair play, ain't it?"
"Would you—you shoot me—now?" faltered the card sharp. At the bottom of his heart he was a coward.