when
Brenchfield, who had been sitting on his horse an inactive and silent
spectator--in response to Pederstone's urgent call, whirled his rope
around his head several times and dropped it deftly over Hanson's
shoulders, pinning his arms helplessly to his side.

Brenchfield then tugged in one direction and Royce Pederstone in the
other, each tying the end of his rope tightly to a stake at his side
of the yard, with the result that the madman was half hamstrung and
reduced to impotence.

Langford came round the side of the building with fresh ropes. These
were quickly bound round Hanson, until he was unable to move hand or
foot, although he still struggled violently, the veins in his neck and
head standing out in blue knots, the perspiration running over his
shapely forehead and the frothy slither again oozing from his lips.

"Say, Graham!--what went wrong? Why didn't you rope him? Thought you
said you would take first throw."

"Did I?" asked Brenchfield calmly.

"Sure you did! It might have been a serious accident. It isn't often
you make a forget like that, old man."

"Oh, pshaw!--what's the odds anyway? Everything was all right."

"Was--yes! But it might have been all day with the new man."

"No chance! I had that cinched. Anyway, he had no right dawdling at
the window as long as he did."

"Here, you two scrapping schoolboys--forget it!" interposed Langford.
"I fancy Phil knows how to look after himself without either of you."

On the instructions of Pederstone, the four men carried the trussed
Hanson into a nearby stable, where they made him fast with fresh ropes
to some heavy stanchions.

When all was secure, Hanson was left to regain his normal, Pederstone
turning the key in the lock for further security.

"Guess that's all this time, Ped," said Brenchfield.

"All through--thanks, Graham!" returned Pederstone, and Brenchfield
rode off in deep thought. As a blacksmith, the Mayor felt that Phil
was easy and safe for him, although he did not like the intimacy that
seemed to have sprung up so soon between Phil and Jim Langford, for
Langford was a strange composite, capable of anything or nothing;
clever; altogether an unknown quantity, but one well worth the
watching closely.

"Do you want Phil to-day now this has happened?" asked Jim of Royce
Pederstone.

"Sure thing!--if he hasn't changed his mind about working?"

"Not me!" answered Phil.

"All right!" said Jim. "Me for the Court House. I'm onl