The man disappeared from view, and the sound of his footsteps told that he was walking rapidly away in the direction from which he had approached.
"What a fool I was to stay here fightin' for less than two dollars, when by giving it up I might have been half a mile from here before that villain came!" Jet said, bitterly, as he nerved himself for what he knew must be the final struggle.
He had good cause for fear.
After the instructions which had been given there was little chance the men would let him slip through their fingers, and, with such an incentive on their part, there was no hope the struggle could be prolonged.
The man whom he had stricken down was now on his feet, vowing vengeance, and ready to continue the fight.
"Close right in on him," the leader said as he seized a stout rail from a near-by fence. "He can only hit one blow, and the job is ended."
"I'll give them a chance to remember me," Jet said, as he stood ready for the attack, and the words had hardly come into his mind before the men were in front of him.
Striking out with all his strength, his cane came in contact with the leader's weapon, shattering the former, and the fight was over.
Two of the men seized him by the arms, and the third amused himself by slapping the helpless boy in the face until tired of the sport.
"Tie his hands, an' we'll mosey along. Joe is after something to drink, an' we must be there in time to get our share."