“Cast yer eyes up at the rim o’ the cañon.”
What the men saw was startling in the extreme.
A red steer was flickering along the rim of the cañon, head down, and flecks of foam covering its dusty hide. To the steer’s back a man was tied. Both steer and man could be plainly seen, and the unusual spectacle brought exclamations of astonishment from every onlooker.
The man was stretched out along the steer’s back, and securely roped in that position. Whether he was alive or not it was impossible for those on the “flat” to tell. The unfortunate man did not move—but the ropes alone would have prevented that.
“Great glee-ory!” gasped Hoppy Smith.
“Wust thing o’ the kind I ever seen!” averred Lonesome Pete.
“Must be Injuns are playin’ didoes some’rs around here!” chimed in Stump Hathaway.
“You’re shy, Stump,” said Gentleman Jim. “Whoever knew Injuns to treat a white like that? So far as I can see, the man on the steer still has his scalp. What’re you going to do, Hank?” he added to the man with the rope.
“It’s dollars ter doughnuts,” said Tenny, “thet the steer’ll foller the stage-trail right down inter camp. If thet’s the case, I’m goin’ to drop a rope over them horns.”
For quite a long distance the stage-trail followed the rim of the cañon. Hank Tenny had sighted the steer and the man when they rushed into sight. Wing Hi had got the rope for him, and immediately afterward Tenny had rushed for the front of the hotel.