"There is a ring up there in the joist boys, trice him up by his thumbs."
They did so, so that only the fellow's toes touched the floor. In a few moments he was writhing in agony.
"Did you know me when you saw me coming up to the cabin?" demanded Jesse.
No answer.
"Trice him up higher!" commanded the great desperado. "He'll come around in a minute or two."
Great beads of perspiration were rolling from the victim's face and signs of weakening were already noticeable in his agonized features. Jesse grinned appreciatively.
"Let me down! Kill me! I can't stand this!" groaned the unhappy wretch, his head dropping forward listlessly.
"Let him down. He's fainted," announced Jesse.
They forced a draught of whiskey down the man's throat after having laid him on the floor.
"Now get up!" commanded Jesse administering a vicious kick as Sam came back to consciousness. "Where is the man who owns this joint?" was his first question.