Before Tom Terror could reach the spot the boy had checked the revolving ball, and the victim of the cord lay in his arms.
“Fiends, you shall pay for this!” he cried. “Ha! you would finish me, too!”
He threw up his right arm as he spoke, and the strange missiles that came from the shadows began to encircle it.
It was the cord of the Thug!
“Ha! ha!” rung out a fearless laugh as the arm was held up in the moonlight for a brief minute. “What a pitiful rope you use! Mine is twice as strong, and I use it, too. Why don’t your devilish leader come back, and give me a chance to use it on him?”
“He hez come back!” roared Tom at that moment. “I’m hyar, you little imp! I’ve got a warrant for you—the kind that we sometimes sarve on a knife.”
The boy turned upon the speaker.
“Tom Terror himself, by the Land of Nod!” he exclaimed. “But you will not serve your warrant here. Back! back!” he held a pistol in his hand. “You can find me almost any day in Cut-throat Canyon. I’ve been holding court at Satan’s Tree. Go down and look at the culprits. I’m glad you’ve come back. We will make this gap our battle-ground. I try, condemn, and execute. I’ve a kind of travelling court that sits constantly. I’m judge, jury, prosecuting attorney, and sheriff. Have a care, Tiger Tom! We need no introduction, but here’s my card, anyhow.”
As the boy ceased, he snatched something from a pocket above his belt, and tossed it at the Gulch Tiger.
It struck him in the face, and fell upon his horse’s neck, where it stopped.