He hurled himself viciously at the dark shadow ahead, which he mentally
registered as Link because he seemed long to tackle, and then kicked
behind at the thing that came after, and struggled manfully with a
throttling hand on his throat till a wad of vile cloth was forced into
his mouth--and just as he had a half Nelson on Shorty, too! If he could
have got Shorty down and stood on him he might have beaten off Link
until Chief got there. Where was Chief? Where was the gun? Where was
he? His head was swimming. Was it his head he had hit against the wall,
or did he bang Shorty's? How it resounded! There were winding stairs in
his head and he seemed to be climbing them, up, up, up, till he dropped
in a heap on the floor, a hard floor all dust, and the dust came into
his nostrils. He was choking with that rag! Why couldn't he pull it
out? What was cutting his wrists when he tried to raise his hand? And
what was that queer pain in his shoulder?
There were shouts outside. How did he get inside? Was that more
shooting? Perhaps he had found his gun after all. Perhaps he was
shooting the men before the Chief got there, and that was bad, because
he didn't feel competent to judge about a thing as serious as shooting
with that dirty rag in his mouth. He must get rid of it somehow.
Doggone it! He had somehow got his hands all tangled up in cords, and
he must get them out no matter if they did cut. He had to give the
Chief a signal.
He struggled again with all his might, and something somewhere gave
way. He wasn't sure what, but he seemed to be sinking down, perhaps
down stairs or down the mountain, somehow so it was down where the
Chief--! where Mark! The light in his brain went out and he lay as one
dead in the great dusty front bedroom where a man who had sinned,
hanged himself once because he couldn't bear his conscience any longer.
And outside in the front door yard five men struggled in the dark, with
curses, and shots, and twice one almost escaped, for Link was
desperate, having a record behind him that would be enough for ten men
to run away from.
But after the two were bound and secured in the car down at the foot of
the mountain, the Chief lingered, and looking up said in a low tone to
one of his men: "I wonder where that boy is!"