“It was a bad fall boy,” he said, and for all the twilight hid his expression there was a smile behind his words. “Guess it knocked you out. Maybe it found your head softer than the trail. There’s nothing broken?”
McFardell gazed about him a little dazedly in the failing light. Then his limbs moved. He drew up his legs and straightened them out. Then he sought to raise himself on his elbow. It was his reply to the other’s question.
Jim Pryse nodded quickly.
“That’s all right, boy. You aren’t hurt, and I’m glad. Your head’ll clear in a while, and you’ll be able to get back into the saddle and make Rock Point. But don’t do it now. Don’t move a hand or foot. You see, your gun’s in my hands,” he went on, producing the policeman’s loaded revolver, “and for they’re all shackled tight I can still pull a trigger and see straight over the sight. Maybe you’ve a key to these bracelets. But I’m not going to worry you for it. It might cause argument and a clinch, and, though I’ve your gun, I’m ready to admit you’d have the best of it in the circumstances—in a clinch. No. Just lie there, if you aren’t a fool, while I climb into my saddle. And you’ll lie there just as long as I’m within gun-range. For, sure as God, if you don’t I’ll shoot you like a dog. Do you get it? I’m getting away. Providence has handed me a chance I’m grabbing with both hands. It’s a tough chance all right, but I haven’t a grouch. Now, lie quite still till I quit.”
He backed away to the waiting horses. He paused beside his own animal, and his eyes were steadily observing the policeman who lay watching him. Then, quite suddenly, the discomfited officer was treated to an exhibition of horsemanship he was wholly unprepared for. The convict raised his fettered hands to the horn of his saddle, and, in an instant, vaulted on to his horse’s back without touching a stirrup. The threatening gun, supported in both the man’s hands still, held the prone figure covered.
Jim Pryse chuckled gleefully.
“You’ve got sense, boy,” he cried, as the other made no movement. “You certainly have. You know your duty, sure—when the drop is on you. Well, so long. I can’t wait. Now, get up quick and grab your horse. He won’t stand when mine moves off, and I haven’t a wish to leave you out here in the snow.”
He moved away, and McFardell leapt to his feet and ran to his horse. The threatening gun held him covered.
He stood for a moment holding his horse, while the outline of the moving horseman became more and more indistinct in the twilight of the storm. Then suddenly his voice sounded harshly in the dead silence of the world about him.
“You fool! Do you think you can get away? Not on your life! Take your dog’s chance! Take it! But you’ll serve those five years—and more—if the coyotes don’t feed your carcase when the storm’s through with you.”