Slowly the big fellow melted under her influence. His struggling gradually ceased. Betty kept on calling his name again and again. Her tears dropped on to his 276 upturned, distorted face, and those tears did what knotted lariats and wooden beams had failed to do––they brought peace and sanity back to the eyes of big Sol Hanson.
His head cradled back in his Betty’s arms and he panted, looked up at her, and, after a few minutes, smiled crookedly.
“Loosen them ropes!” Betty commanded of Brenchfield and Royce Pederstone.
“We daren’t do it,” answered the Mayor.
“You loose them quick,” she cried again, “or I’ll kill you.
“Them fellows is skeered you’ll hurt them, Sol. Tell them Solly you won’t touch ’em,––will you, Solly?”
Sol shook his head.
Phil came forward to do the needful. At the same instant, Royce Pederstone’s good sense took in the situation better than Brenchfield’s dogged mind could.
“Guess we might take a chance, Graham!” he said quietly.
“You ain’t takin’ any chances with my Solly. Give me a knife and beat it, both of you. I ain’t skeered o’ my man.”