the poor wretch!” echoed Adrian, as they urged their horses forward.
While the two ranch boys got their ropes out, and made arrangements to have one of the horses pull, after a noose had been placed under the man’s arms, Billie made a sudden discovery.
“Say,” he called out, from the shore, close by where his chums were working like a pair of beavers, “I think I know that man, even if his face is covered with mud. It’s Tod Harkness, that’s who it is, the worst rascal along the border, so lots of people say.”
“But the man you saved once before, Billie,” remarked Donald, as he too now recognized the ugly face of the fellow.
“Don’t let thet same keep you from yankin’ me out, gents,” whined the man, who had rather lost his nerve when he believed that his doom was certain; he might have faced pistol fire without flinching, or almost any other form of death; but this thing of being sucked down, inches at a time, until the end came, was worse than Indian torture.
“Rest easy, Tod, we’re not the kind to let any man, no matter how much of a bad egg he may be, go to such a death,” said Adrian.
“Out you will come, as soon as I get this loop fixed,” added Donald. “It’ll hurt some when the horse pulls; but you’ve got to stand for that, Tod.”
“I kin stand anything, if on’y I git out,” said the border desperado.
When they had all arrangements made, he did come out, though the strain was so great that the man fairly shrieked, and then swooned before they had him safe on land.
Donald proceeded to examine him, and Adrian as well said that no damage had been done except to bruise his body a little. He would soon be himself again. His horse was calmly grazing near by, and had apparently paid no attention to the calls of its master, while it could find green grass to nibble.