Fighting Dan wheeled his horse and dug his spurs deep. The animal splashed furiously up the bank, while the swirling body of Red Dick at the end of the lariat fairly made the water boil.
Fighting Dan slid from his horse, loosened the coils about Red’s neck, threw the half-conscious man over on his face, and gave him a resounding slap between the shoulders.
“You shore missed drowndin’ by ther skin o’ yer neck,” remarked Dan, as the gasping, nearly suffocated man showed signs of reviving.
“Ye see ’f I hadn’t skun yer neck with ther rope ye’d been swimmin’ fer Davy Jones’ place o’ business now.”
“What ye goin’ ter do with me?” croaked Red.
“Yer fate ain’t fully settled yet, Red, but I shore think hangin’ is much more becomin’ ter yore style er beauty; don’t yer, Red?”
CHAPTER VIII.
PA-E-HAS-KA TRAPPED.
Buffalo Bill watched Fighting Dan out of sight with his prisoner. About the latter’s neck a lariat was tied just tight enough so as not to be choking, yet too close to permit of being slipped. The prisoner was allowed to cling to the saddlehorn and run by the side of the easily loping horse—and so they disappeared over the hill.