Page:Cherokee Trails (1928).pdf/193

 under foot and still. Simpson wanted to reach down for the fellow's gun, but dared not take his attention from the conscious, active rascal standing on his feet before him, backed up against the manger. Dan was staring at him in surprised malevolence. The mare had backed the length of her rope, where she stood snorting, the line stretched tight between the two standing men.

Seconds were precious to Tom Simpson; he had not even the small change of one to gamble away. While the surprise of the situation numbed Dan's faculties for the moment, Simpson ducked under the taut rope, gun pressed into the horsethief's belly, and, employing foot and hand in a sudden and astonishing maneuver, tipped the surprised man backwards into the manger.

Dan plumped down into the wedge of the manger as if he had been measured and cut out for it, back against the wall, legs doubled up until his knees were at his chin. Simpson wedged him farther down, quieting his struggles and curses with the cold smell of the gun-barrel against his nose. Dan was wedged there in a ludricrousludicrous [sic] situation that held him secure for the moment, heave and struggle as he might.

Simpson told him his life hung on absolute silence, and the horsethief had lived long enough to believe him. Dan didn't give vent to a peep while Tom slipped his gun into the holster, pulled out his knife and cut the mare loose. Working swiftly and deftly with part of the mare's rope, Simpson tied Dan's hands to the pole of the manger, one on either side of his feet, in spread-eagle fashion to take the slack out of his long arms.

Before this was accomplished Noah began to stir under