He still held the rein, shouting to his comrades to board the wagon. Pomp pulled the cord in vain to reopen the throttle.
Finding he was unable to do this, he picked up a rifle and would have drawn a bead upon the fellow but for an incident which occurred to prevent.
The door of the cage was suddenly hurled open.
It had been left unlocked, and a greaser sprang into the wagon.
Another was behind him, but Pomp fired at the first one.
The bullet missed the fellow’s skull.
“Caramba!” he gritted, rushing upon the darky.
The pistol was dashed from Pomp’s grasp, and he was wrestling the next moment with his foe.
Pomp knew that it was a desperate situation, and he fought savagely.
But two more of the greasers were quickly in the wagon.