“The little ’un brung a rope, Bill,” he announced in a jeering tone as he stepped into the open. “Mebbeso it’ll come in right handy to string ’em up. Ketch ropes is scarce and hangin’ a man spoils a rope fer use. Bad luck to use one that’s snaked a man tuh ——.”
Followed by another man, he stepped carefully down the incline.
“Howdy, Black Whiskers,” said Shorty glibly. “When yuh go through my pockets after you’ve made a corpse outa me, yuh’ll find four bits in my off flank pocket. Buy yorese’f a shave with it.”
Holding his gun in careless readiness, Black Jack stepped closer, still on the incline. Shorty noticed that the single action gun was not cocked but that the breed’s thumb was on the hammer.
“If yuh got ary more comical sayin’s in yore system,” he sneered, git shet of ’em. I understand as how hangin’ kinda interferes with a man’s voice. Bill, tie Basset up. I’ll tend to this mouthy one.”
Black Jack’s hand slipped hipward and produced a pair of steel handcuffs. He was clear of the incline now and on a level with Shorty, standing but a couple of feet distant.
“Jest lay aside yore hangin’ rope, little man, and hold yore lily white paws out fer a nice pair uh bracelets.”
Shorty’s right hand flicked forward from the wrist with a deft, swift movement. The round noose shot out, settled, and tightened with such abruptness that Black Jack was caught off his guard. Shorty hurled himself backward, jerking the breed from his feet. The .45 exploded harmlessly.
Pete threw himself forward as Bill shot. The youth’s hand clutched the gun on the ground and, rolling over with a catlike twist, he fired at the shadowy form that came through the air at him like a mountain lion springing on its prey. His shot missed Bill by inches and their bodies met in a thudding crash to writhe and twist in locked embrace.
Shorty’s wet socks slipped on the water-soaked clay bank as he jerked the rope. Black Jack, the shining handcuffs now a nasty weapon, was upon him, the steel manacles crashing full into Shorty’s face. A grunt of pain and the little puncher’s hand gripped the black whiskers and jerked. His other fist swung at the man’s jaw.