But Chet was not going to miss his man by any over-eagerness. He made sure the coil of the rope ran free and that the noose was open. Then he threw the lariat and it dropped just where he wanted it to—over the head and shoulders of the gorilla-like rascal.
“Help!” grunted Tony, who had been quite asleep, feeling the tightening of the noose about his arms.
His partner sprang almost instantly into a sitting posture, and his hand went to a six-shooter that he had bolstered at his hip. But Dig was ready. He uttered a yell of derision and dropped his noose over the villain, whipping it so tight at the first pull that the man uttered a cry of pain.
“Got him!” cried Dig.
Chet had been just as quick as his chum. When he pulled the line taut he sprang over the log and landed right on the back of Tony Traddles, knocking the big fellow forward on his face.
The boy fastened the rope with a good knot and left Tony thrashing about and sputtering, while he ran to see that Dig and his prisoner were all right. The man with the black sombrero could not get at his gun, and struggle as he did he could not loosen the rope. Soon the boys had wound the slack of the lariat around him, from elbows to heels, and laid him out like an “Indian papoose,” as Dig said, chuckling.
Then the chums went to Tony and, in spite of his kicking, and ignoring his threats, they triced him up as carefully and securely as they had his comrade in crime.
“I know who that other man is now,” said Chet. “Don’t you recognise him, Dig?”
“No. My acquaintance doesn’t run among such fellows as he,” answered Dig. “The mean thief! That’s my blanket he was sleeping in. I’ll take it and hang it over a bush to air.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Chet, smiling. “He’s the fellow who was hanging around our house. Don’t you remember that when I shot that hawk, he was there? And he is the same fellow who, the day of the cave-in at the mine, was up in the mountain with Amoshee.”