Tales from the X-bar Horse Camp: The Blue-Roan "Outlaw" and Other Stories

by Will C. Barnes

Just as they turned the corner out of the main street a couple of shots whistled past the bunch, proving that Tex and the marshal were alive and in pursuit. This was what the boys wanted, and they gave shrill yells of defiance as they pounded through the heavy sand that covered the road to the bridge. They slowed down a little along here to give their pursuers a chance to catch up a little; and when the officers announced their coming, by more shots, some of which came rather close to the bunch of riders, they fired a few in reply, and thundered across the bridge at full speed, in spite of the warning sign that promised all sorts of fines and imprisonment for any one "riding across the bridge faster than a walk."

Along about the center span four of the boys, Baldy Peters, Jack Gibson, Dutch Henry, and Long Jim, dropped from their saddles, their ropes in their hands, and two on each side of the roadway, in the shelter of the huge beams, hastily made loops in their ropes, and awaited the coming of the two men. The rest of the gang clattered across the bridge with shrill whoops, and out on to the hard rocky road beyond, with the four loose horses following them, as if their riders were still on their backs.

Now, the four men on the bridge were the most skillful rope-tossers in all that range. Rope-tossers, instead of swinging the rope around their heads before throwing, spread it out behind and to one side of them, and with a quick, graceful throw, or toss, launch it with unerring aim over the head of the animal at which they throw. This method is used almost entirely in catching horses out of the "cavyyard," and also in catching calves out of a herd, as it is done so quietly and easily that the animal is snared before it has a chance to dodge or move.

Tex and the marshal were not quite so foolhardy or ignorant as to feel that they could capture and arrest the crowd they were after, but the marshal wanted that nomination in the fall, and felt it was a good chance to make a "rep" for himself. Tex was to be his chief deputy, if elected, so he was also eager to do something to prove his valor. Their idea, therefore, was to make a sort of grandstand play, follow the boys out a ways, fire a few shots after them at parting, and come back to town. Hearing them rattle across the bridge and out over the rocky road beyond, they feared no trap or ambush, and so kept riding in their wake, firing a shot every few seconds, as much to show the townspeople what they were up to, as anything else.

As they passed the spot where the four boys were awaiting them, four silent ropes settled down over the heads and shoulders of the luckless officers of the law. Going at full speed as they were, there was no chance to throw off those snakelike coils, and the two riders were jerked backward over their horses' hips and landed heavily upon the hard plank flooring of the bridge.

The marshal's six-shooter went off into the air as he wildly threw up his arms to clear his body of that python-like embrace, while the one Tex held in his hands flew off into space and dropped into the muddy waters below. Both men were stunned by the force of the fall, and lay as if dead on the bridge; but no sooner had they struck than they were promptly covered by the four men.

The avengers first took their small "hogging ropes" (a short piece of rope about six feet long, which every well regulated puncher carries, either in his saddle pocket, or around his waist, to be used in tying together the feet of any cow or steer he might have to tie down on the ranges), and secured their prisoners' wrists firmly behind their backs; then they took a lariat rope and wound it round and round the men's bodies from shoulders to heels, so that moving their feet or arms was an impossibility. To do this was not hard, for both men were stunned from their fearful fall, and lay like logs, while the boys worked on them.

The end of another lariat was passed through under their arms, around the body, and tied in a "bow-line hitch" behind the back. The two luckless officers were by this time regaining consciousness, and began to curse and struggle, but to no avail. At first they feared they were to be hung, and begged for their lives like good fellows; but as they were swung off the edge of the bridge and found how they were lashed with ropes, they pleaded even more fervently, for it looked as if the boys meant to drown them like rats in a cage. All to no avail. The boys never answered a word, but went ahead with their work, in the most matter-of-fact way imaginable. The ropes, tied as they were, suspended the men by the arms in such a way that they hung fairly upright, and without any particular pain or suffering from them.

Now, the water of the Puerco is about as vile-smelling and oleaginous stuff as any one ever saw, tasted, or smelled; indeed, the offensiveness of the water suggested the name of the river—"Nasty." Especially in time of floods does it deserve its name. The water then is more like thin gruel of a yellowish red color, and smells to Heaven. Into this mess the conspirators slowly lowered the two officers of the law, regardless of their prayers, entreaties, threats, or curses, of which each of the two men poured out a liberal supply in tones to wake the dead.

A turn of the rope about one of the bridge rods served to check the speed of their descent, and while Baldy Peters got over the railing and down on to the stone abutment, that he might the better see how far to lower the men, the rest held onto the ropes and let them down.