Whirling in the direction whence the taunt came, the aged scout sped to the outer tier of tombs, then started toward the end—and tripped over the rope!
With a howl of triumph, Scalping Louie was upon the cursing, squirming mass of cowboys.
But he had reckoned without their strength!
“I’ve got him! Here he is! Quick, strike a light!” yelled Deadshot, winding his arms about the murdering Indian in a grip like steel, rendering the fiend powerless to wield his scalping knife, as he had intended.
Yet the Midnight Raider was resourceful!
Realizing that should a torch be lighted his end was come, he raised his knee with terrific force, catching his captor full in the stomach, at the same time butting him viciously in the chest with his head.
The suddenness of the move broke Deadshot’s hold and, with a mocking laugh, the daredevil renegade dashed for the stairway and darted to the second floor of the catacombs.
“You done for now!” gloated Slippery Nig. “Quick, boys, strike match, get torch, pick up dried twigs, grass, anything make fire. We drive Louie out!”
Not understanding exactly how this was to be accomplished, the cowpunchers nevertheless obeyed, and when they had gathered piles of inflammable stuff, Nig took it, crept down the stairs, placed it at the head of the tier, thrust a match into it and as it blazed up, bounded back to the floor above.
“Ki Yi, you, Pinky watch here. Deadshot come with me. Nig know trap at other end this row. We go down. Get Louis between fire and us—bang!—all over!”