Jim was promptly assisted to the ground by the waiting men, for he was bound hand and foot. Now his bonds were removed, and immediately he stepped forward to where Smallbones had just succeeded in throwing his rope into position overhead, and was testing it with his own weight.
As the prisoner came up he turned, and a malicious sparkle shone in his eyes as he confronted the calm face.
“It’ll bear my weight?” Jim inquired, coldly. “It wouldn’t be pleasant to go through it twice.” He glanced up at the tree as though interested.
“It’s built fer ropin’ ‘outlaws,’” Smallbones grinned. “I sure don’t guess a low-down skunk of a murderer’ll–––”
But the man never finished his sentence. Doc Crombie had him by the throat in a clutch that threatened to add another and more welcome crime to the records.
“Another word from your lousy tongue an’ I’ll strangle you!” roared the doctor, venting at last all the pent-up wrath gathered on the journey out.
But Jim was impatient. He remembered those two toiling figures behind.
“Let up, Doc,” he said sharply. “His words don’t hurt. Let’s finish things.”
The doctor’s hand fell from the man’s throat and he drew back.
“Fix the ropes,” he said shortly.