ed; but to stand there a witness
of his uncle's deadly peril, believing himself powerless to aid him, was
indeed enough to strike terror to his heart.

"O, if I only had my rifle, or one of my pistols!" cried Frank,
"wouldn't I tumble that villain in a hurry? Or if I could find a club,
or could loosen one of these stones"--

Frank suddenly remembered that he held in his hand a weapon quite as
effective at short range, when skilfully used, as either a rifle or
pistol. It was his lasso; and, until that instant, he had forgotten all
about it. Then the blood flew to his cheeks; his power of action
returned, and his arms seemed nerved with the strength of giants. How
thankful was he, then, that his desire to become as expert as his two
friends, Johnny Harris and Dick Thomas, had led him to practice with
that novel weapon.

With a bound like an antelope he started toward the struggling men,
swinging his lasso around his head as he ran. Pierre, believing that he
had left Frank securely bound, and being too intent upon taking care of
his new prisoner to look for enemies in his rear, heard not the sound of
his approaching footsteps, nor did he dream of danger until the noose,
which, but a few moments before, had been around Frank's neck, settled
down over his own. Then he knew that his game was up. With a piercing
cry of terror he sprang to his feet, and, with frantic haste, endeavored
to throw off the lariat; but Frank was too quick for him.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, trying to imitate the tone in which the Ranchero
had spoken that same word but a few moments before. "Aha! Now I am going
to break one of two things--your spirit or your neck; I don't care
which. One good turn deserves another, you know."

As Frank said this, he threw all his strength into his arms, and gave
the lasso a vigorous jerk, which caused Pierre's heels to fly up, and
his head to come in violent contact with the pavement of the court.

"Now, then, Uncle James," exclaimed Frank, "we've got him. No you
don't!" he added, as the Ranchero made a desperate attempt to regain his
feet; "come back here!" and he gave him a second jerk, which brought him
to the ground again.

Frank was blessed with more than an ordinary share of muscle for a boy
of his age; but he could not hope to compete successfully with a man of
Pierre's size and experience, even though he held him at great
disadvantage. The Ranchero, as active as a cat, thrashed about at an
astonishing rate,