Donald had brought his lariat along, under the belief that it might come in handy one way or another. As he thus stood up, just a little way back of the sentry who was sitting there, he had this rope in his hands, Adrian holding both rifles meanwhile.
Billie saw this and drew a long breath, while his
glittering eyes were fixed upon the man with the enormous appetite. It was just as though he might be saying bitterly to himself; “now see what you get for hogging it all; and serve you just about right, too!”
Donald was a clever hand with the lariat. He had learned all the ordinary cow-puncher tricks in making use of a rope; and often bewildered Billie with some of his astonishing throws, back-handed, side ways, and with the queer little jerking movement that adepts can make to serve their purpose without coiling the lariat again.
This was as easy a job as ever came his way; and indeed, Billie himself would have thought it no difficult feat to toss that well-balanced loop directly over the head of the unconscious sentry.
It was done like a flash. The man instinctively knew he was a prisoner the very instant he felt the touch of the descending rope; indeed, he must have heard the whistle of it through the air, for Billie saw him plainly try to duck his head as though he hoped to dodge the cast; but he was too late.
All punchers understand that their only chance when “roped” is to instantly start toward the point from which the loop springs. In this way they may get a slack line, and be able to throw off the noose before it is too late.
As he was instantly jerked over, the sentry had no chance to run or even crawl; but he proved that
he knew his business by trying to roll toward Donald, who was taking in the slack rope hand over hand.
When the proper second came he leaped forward and threw himself on the prostrate sentry, whipping the rope around him several times so as to render him helpless.