"I'm hog-tied," answered Dingwell promptly. His mind worked swiftly. The man with the drop on him was Chet Fox, a hanger-on of the Rutherford gang, just as he had been seventeen years before when he betrayed John Beaudry to death. Fox was shrewd and wily, but no gunman. If Chet was alone, his prisoner did not propose to remain one. Dave did not intend to make any fool breaks, but it would be hard luck if he could not contrive a chance to turn the tables.
"Reach for the roof."
Dingwell obeyed orders.
Fox came forward very cautiously. Not for an instant did his beady eyes lift from the man he covered.
"Turn your back to me."
The other man did as he was told.
Gingerly Fox transferred the rifle to his left hand, then drew a revolver. He placed the rifle against the fork of a young aspen and the barrel of the six-gun against the small of Dingwell's back.
"Make just one break and you're a goner," he threatened.
With deft fingers he slid the revolver of the cattleman from its holster. Then, having collected Dingwell's rifle, he fell back a few steps.
"Now you can go on with those health exercises I interrupted if you've a mind to," Fox suggested with a sneer.