“Can you cut him loose and bring up the rope?” asked the boy hanger.
“Cut who loose, an’ git what rope?”
“Why the man hanging from the beam in the wall.”
“Ye’re mistaken, jedge; somebody’s fooled ye.”
“Mistaken—fooled?” echoed the boy, and he quickly thrust the revolver into Myra’s hand, saying: “You can shoot; watch that man and drop him over the cliff if he attempts to fly or attack. No man at the beam? Great heavens! what has become of Rosebud Dan?”
Rosebud Dan, rope, all had disappeared.
The boy lyncher shrunk back, for the moment unnerved. His face was colorless, and he glanced at the Gulch Giant who was trying, as it seemed, to fathom his surprise.
He staggered rather than walked back to the girl, who, revolver in hand, had not taken her eyes from Tom Terror one second.
“The Thug was right. Rosebud Dan and the rope are gone,” he said.
“Cut down?”