Frank started back, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. There could be no mistake about it, for the moon shone brightly, rendering all the objects in the court as plainly visible as if it had been broad daylight. He was not only terribly frightened, but he was utterly confounded. He had believed Mr. Winters to be fast asleep in his bed at the hotel in San Diego; but there he was, when Frank least expected him, and, more than that, he was being worsted in his struggle with Pierre. The boy could not understand it.
"Unhand me, you scoundrel!" he heard Uncle James say, in a feeble voice.
"Not until you have given me the key of the safe," was the robber's answer. "I have worked hard for that gold to-night, and I am not going to leave the ranch without it."
Then commenced a furious struggle, and Frank turned away his head, lest he should see that gleaming knife buried in his uncle's body.
Never before had Frank been so thoroughly overcome with fear. He had just passed through in ordeal that would have tried the nerves of the bravest man, and he had scarcely flinched; but to stand there a witness of his uncle's deadly peril, believing himself powerless to aid him, was indeed enough to strike terror to his heart.
"O, if I only had my rifle, or one of my pistols!" cried Frank, "wouldn't I tumble that villain in a hurry? Or if I could find a club, or could loosen one of these stones"—
Frank suddenly remembered that he held in his hand a weapon quite as effective at short range, when skilfully used, as either a rifle or pistol. It was his lasso; and, until that instant, he had forgotten all about it. Then the blood flew to his cheeks; his power of action returned, and his arms seemed nerved with the strength of giants. How thankful was he, then, that his desire to become as expert as his two friends, Johnny Harris and Dick Thomas, had led him to practice with that novel weapon.
With a bound like an antelope he started toward the struggling men, swinging his lasso around his head as he ran. Pierre, believing that he had left Frank securely bound, and being too intent upon taking care of his new prisoner to look for enemies in his rear, heard not the sound of his approaching footsteps, nor did he dream of danger until the noose, which, but a few moments before, had been around Frank's neck, settled down over his own. Then he knew that his game was up. With a piercing cry of terror he sprang to his feet, and, with frantic haste, endeavored to throw off the lariat; but Frank was too quick for him.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, trying to imitate the tone in which the Ranchero had spoken that same word but a few moments before. "Aha! Now I am going to break one of two things—your spirit or your neck; I don't care which. One good turn deserves another, you know."
As Frank said this, he threw all his strength into his arms, and gave the lasso a vigorous jerk, which caused Pierre's heels to fly up, and his head to come in violent contact with the pavement of the court.