"Hey, you beer guzzler! Hurry up with that mare or I'll plug you full of lead!" bellowed John, pointing his rifle at the German.
"Ach, Himmel! Don't shoot!" implored the latter. "I coom in chust a second."
Inspired by the desire to save his skin, the farmer lashed his bays furiously, dragging the captured runaway by a halter he had tied around her neck.
Darting forward to meet him as he drew near, John yelled:
"Fling me the rope!"
Glad to be free of his blood-thirsty employers, the fellow hurled the halter-end at the bandit as he clattered past in his wagon, never looking around to see whether it was caught or not.
But a shout of joy from behind told him that it had been. Yet scarcely had it died away when a howl of fury from in front warned him that the posse did not approve his actions and, in fear of being made to pay a penalty for lending aid to the robbers, he yanked his bays into a side street, taking the corner on two wheels.
Tarrying not to battle with their pursuers, the desperadoes continued their course northward.
Their ponies, however, were tired from the hard riding of the past few days and those of the posse rapidly overhauled them.