This was true enough, as Dave knew, for the bottom of the gully was covered with jagged rocks. More than one straying steer had fallen over there and had been dashed to pieces.
"Steady!" called Dave. "I see how it is. I'll soon have you out of that.
I'm going back for my rope."
"Are you a puncher?" asked the man.
"Yes," answered Dave, briefly. "But don't talk. Save your strength. I'll have you out in a jiffy."
He hurried back to where he had left his horse, and took from the horn of the saddle the rope which no cowboy is ever without. With this Dave took a turn about the man's waist, passing the rope under him. He then carried an end back to a stout tree and tied it there, working, the while, deftly and swiftly.
"That will hold you in case you slip when I loosen the rocks and free your foot," Dave explained. "You are pretty well overbalanced. But I'll get you up, all right."
The man was in a peculiar and perilous position, but Dave thought that he could cope with the situation. His life on the plains, and amid the perils of the range had made him resourceful, and quick to take advantage of all the chances for safety.
Dave looked at the man's foot. It was firmly wedged in between two rocks that came together in the form of a large V. Considerable pressure must have forced the man's foot there, for Dave could see that the stout leather of his riding boot was cut and scraped. The foot was twisted, and Dave remarked, in a low voice:
"If you haven't a badly sprained ankle I'll miss my guess!"
"Watch yourself now," David cautioned the man. "You can't fall, even if you slip over, for the rope's strong enough to hold you; but you may get a bad jerk when you bring up suddenly if you fall after I release your foot."