It is a cry partly of despair, partly of fierce defiance—like the scream of a chased jaguar under bay of the bloodhounds.
It is accompanied by a gesture; quick followed by a flash, a puff of white smoke, and a sharp detonation, that tell of the discharge of a revolver.
But the bullet whistles harmlessly through the air; while in the opposite direction is heard a hishing sound—as from the winding of a sling—and a long serpent seems to uncoil itself in the air!
Calhoun sees it through the thinning smoke. It is darting straight towards him!
He has no time to draw trigger for a second shot—no time even to avoid the lazo’s loop. Before he can do either, he feels it settling over his shoulders; he hears the dread summons, “Surrender, you assassin!” he sees the red stallion turn tail towards him; and, in the next instant, experiences the sensation of one who has been kicked from a scaffold!
Beyond this he feels, hears, and sees nothing more.
He has been jerked out of his saddle; and the shock received in his collision with the hard turf has knocked the breath out of his body, as well as the sense out of his soul!