They were leading the stunned and helpless old man away, when someone, who was bending over Young Matt, exclaimed, “You missed him, Wash! Jest raked him. He’ll be up in a minute. An’ hell ’ll be to pay in th’ wilderness if he ain’t tied. Better fix him quick.”
The big fellow already showed signs of returning consciousness, and, by the time they had tied his arms, he was able to struggle to his feet. For a moment he looked dizzily around, his eyes turning from one evil, triumphant face to another, until they rested upon the bleeding countenance of his old friend. The shepherd’s eyes smiled back a message of cheer, and the kind old man tried to speak, when Wash Gibbs made another threatening motion, with his clenched fist.
At this, a cry like the roar of a mad bull came from the young giant. In his rage, he seemed suddenly endowed with almost superhuman strength. Before a man of the startled company could do more than gasp with astonishment, he had shaken himself free from those who held him, and, breaking the rope with which he was bound, as though it were twine, had leaped to the shepherd’s side.
But it was useless. For a moment, no one moved. Then a crashing blow, from the butt of a rifle in the hands of a man in the rear of the two prisoners, sent Young Matt once more to the ground. When he again regained consciousness, he was so securely bound, that, even with his great strength, he was helpless.
Leading their captives to the old tree, the men withdrew for a short consultation, and to refresh themselves with another drink. When they had finished, Gibbs addressed the two friends; “We’uns didn’t aim to hurt you, Young Matt, but seein’ how you’re so thick with this here feller, an’ ’pear to know so much ’bout him, I reckon we can’t hep ourselves nohow.” He turned to the shepherd; “There’s been too dad burned much funny work, at this ranch, since you come, Mister, an’ we’uns ’low we’ll just give warnin’ that we don’t want no more strangers snoopin’ ’round this neighborhood, an’ we don’t aim t’ have ’em neither. We’uns ’low we can take care o’ ourselves, without ary hep from th’ dad burned government.”
The shepherd tried to speak, but Gibbs, with an oath, roared, “Shut up, I tell you. Shut up. I’ve been a watchin’, an’ I know what I know. Fix that there rope, boys, an we’ll get through, an’ mosey ’long out o’ here. Ain’t no use to palaver, nohow.”
A rope was thrown over a limb above their heads, and a man approached the shepherd with the noose. Young Matt struggled desperately. With an evil grin, Gibbs said, “Don’t you worry, sonny; you’re a goin’, too.” And at his signal another rope was fixed, and the noose placed over the young man’s head. The men took their places, awaiting the word from their leader.
The shepherd spoke softly to his companion, “Thank you, my boy.” The giant began another desperate struggle.
Wash Gibbs, raising his hand, opened his lips to give the signal. But no word came. The brutal jaw dropped. The ruffian’s eyes fairly started from his head, while the men who held the ropes, stood as if turned to stone, as a long wailing cry came from the dark shadows under the bluff. There was a moment of death-like silence. Then another awful, sobbing groan, rising into a blood curdling scream, came from down the road, and, from the direction of the ruined cabin, advanced a ghostly figure. Through the deep shadows and the misty light, it seemed to float toward them, moaning and sobbing as it came.
A shuddering gasp of horror burst from the frightened crew under the tree. Then, at a louder wail from the approaching apparition, they broke and ran. Like wild men they leaped for their horses, and, flinging themselves into their saddles, fled in every direction.