back to
the bronco and untied the reata from the tientos. Deftly he coiled the
rope and adjusted the loop to suit him. Again he stole to the rim rock
and waited with the stealthy, deadly patience of the crouched cougar.

Roush rose. His arms fell to his sides. Instantly the rope dropped,
uncoiling as it flew. With perfect accuracy the loop descended upon its
victim and tightened about his waist, pinning the arms close to the body.

Clanton, hauled in the rawhide swiftly. Dragged from his feet, Roush
could make no resistance. Before he could gather his startled wits, he
found himself dangling in midair against the face of the rock wall.

The man above fastened the end of the rope to the roots of a scrub oak
and ran down the slope at full speed. In less than half a minute he was
standing breathless in front of his prisoner.

Already shaken with dread, Roush gave way to panic fear at sight of him.

"Goddlemighty! It's Clanton!" he cried.

Jim buckled on the belt and appropriated the rifle. His grim face told
Roush all he needed to know.

There had been a time when Roush, full of physical life and energy, had
boasted that he feared no living man. In his cups he still bragged of his
bad record, of his accuracy as a gunman, of his gameness. But he knew,
and his associates suspected, that Devil Dave had long since drunk up his
courage. His nerves were jumpy and his heart bad. Now he begged for his
life abjectly. If he had been free from the rope that held him dangling
against the wall, he would have crawled like a whipped cur to the feet of
his enemy.

At a glance Clanton saw Roush had been camping alone. The hobbled
horse, the blankets, the breakfast dishes, all told him this. But he
took no chances. First he saddled the horse and brought it close to the
camp-fire. When he sat down to eat the breakfast the rustler had cooked,
it was with his back to the bluff and the rifle across his knees.

"This here rope hurts tur'ble--seems like my wrists are on fire," whined
the man. "You let me down, Mr. Clanton, and I'll explain eve'ything. I
want to be yore friend. I sure do. I don't feel noways onfriendly to you.
Mebbe I used to be a bad lot, but I'm a changed man now."

Go-Get-'Em Jim said nothing. He had not spoken once, and his silence
filled the roped man with terror. The shifting eyes of Devil Dave read
doom in the cold, still ones of his enemy.

Sometimes Roush argued in a puling whimper. Sometimes his terror rose t