The Mexican stooped to coil his rope. As he rose his glance darted across the faces of the crowd under the trees until it met the eyes of Alexander Bancroft, standing beside Dellmey Baxter, at the end of the long group. Baxter saw the two pairs of eyes meet and hold each other for an instant, and his curiosity was aroused. But he seemed to notice nothing, and saying, “Come, Aleck, let’s go and see what they’re up to now,” he led the way to the upper end of the grove.
The two horsemen cantered out into the open and began their manœuvres. The people crowded along at the edge of the shade, and some of the men stepped out into the sunlight to get a better view. Emerson Mead was much interested and walked out farther than the rest. The snakey rings and lengths of the Mexican’s rope were whistling through the air, and the two men were wheeling, stopping, rushing forward, jumping sidewise, in graceful evolutions. The noose circled through the space between them, poised over Conrad’s head, and darted downward like some voracious bird of prey. An exclamation ran through the intent crowd, “He’s got him! He’s got him this time!” But the superintendent jerked his horse to its hind legs, swung it to one side, galloped a little way, and came back laughing. “Good! that was first rate!” Emerson Mead called out.
José wound his rope for another trial, and cantered leisurely back and forth, making sudden feints of throwing and watching his employer’s movements of evasion. Suddenly he wheeled, charged, and threw the loop from a distance of only a few paces. He had calculated on the other’s spurring forward to escape; instead Conrad brought his horse to a standstill, and the noose fell over its ears. A cheer went up from the grove, and Curtis turned to wave his broad-brimmed hat. In the one swift glance he was aware of Lucy, watching so eagerly that she had stepped forward into the sunshine, and of his brother, raising a sunshade over her head.
Gonzalez also waved his sombrero to the company, and coiled his rope anew. It darted out like a serpent’s tongue, and this time it caught Conrad unawares; he had thought his antagonist would not throw so soon and for the instant was off his guard. The noose fell over his head just as his horse was at mid-bound. He heard it whistle as it dropped past his ears, and as quick as a flash jerked his pony backward to a sudden stop. Apparently José had expected the horse to leap forward, for, as he felt the slacking of the rope, there was a dextrous turn of his wrist, and a dig of his spur that sent his pony dancing to one side. The noose tightened around Curtis’s neck. Instinctively he clutched it, and his fingers, caught against his windpipe, ground into his own throat.
“The greaser did that on purpose!” exclaimed Emerson Mead in a hard, swift undertone, as his hand gripped the revolver at his waistband. But Gonzalez was already beside Conrad, and lifting the noose from his neck. The American choked and gasped for breath once or twice.
“You—you caught me square that time, José,” he said.
“We are even now, señor,” replied the Mexican; “you gave me my life once, and now I give you yours. It would have been only a second more; and it was plainly an accident; nobody would have known. I have paid my debt.”
The people were cheering. Both men faced toward the grove and waved their hats. “You damned impudent coyote!” said Curtis through his teeth. Then he grinned, and added, “But I like your nerve, though.”
At the grove side the manager threw his bridle to the Mexican, but turned impulsively and called, “Here, José, wait a minute. I want you to show these people how you can throw the knife.” A stride or two took him to José’s side. “And I’ll be your target, damn you!” he added in an undertone. He walked back where Lucy, Miss Dent, and his brother were standing, humming a stave or two from a comic opera under his breath. Homer noticed that his face was rather pale and that his eyes were blazing, but thought it due to his annoyance at having been roped.