As Rod was about to reply there came a sound of galloping horses and a shout from the place where he had left Juniper fastened to a fence post.
“There he is!”
“Now we’ve got him!”
“Throw up your hands, you scoundrel!”
“Don’t you dare draw a pistol or we’ll fill you full of holes!”
These and a score of similar cries came to the ears of the bewildered lad as half a dozen horsemen dashed up to the front gate, and four of them, leaping to the ground, ran towards him while the others held the horses.
He was too astonished even to remonstrate, and as they seized him he submitted to the indignity as quietly as one who is dazed.
The woman in the doorway regarded this startling scene with amazement. When in answer to her eager questions the new-comers told her that the young desperado whom she had so nearly admitted to her house was a horse-thief, who, but a short time before, had stolen the animal now tied to her front fence, at the point of a revolver from the man who was leading him to water, she said she wouldn’t have believed that such a mere boy could be so great a villian.
“It’s the truth though,” affirmed the man who acted as spokesman. “Isn’t it, Al?”
“Yes, siree,” replied Al, a heavy-looking young farm hand. “An more ’n that, he fired at me too afore I’d give up the ’orse. Oh, yes, he’s a bad un, young as he looks, an hangin’ wouldn’t be none too good for him.”