Charley stepped in front of him to go to the aid of Stevenson and caught
the other boot in his groin, dropping as if he had been shot. The man
on the prisoner's left emitted a yell and loosed his hold to sympathize
with a bruised shinbone, and his companion promptly knocked the bound
and still intoxicated man down. Bill Thomas swore and eyed the prostrate
figure with resentment and regret. "Hate to hit a man who can fight like
that when he's loaded an' tied. I'm glad, all the same, that he ain't
sober an' loose."
"An' you ain't going to hit him no more!" snapped Jed White, reddening
with anger. "I'm ready to hang him, 'cause that's what he deserves, an'
what we're here for, but I'm damned if I'll stand for any more mauling.
I don't blame him for fighting, an' they didn't have no right to kick
him in the beginning."
"Didn't kick him in the beginning," grinned Bill. "Kicked him in the
ending. Anyhow," he continued seriously, "I didn't hit him hard--didn't
have to. Just let him go an' shoved him quick."
"I'm just naturally going to clean house," muttered the prisoner,
sitting up and glaring around. "Untie my han's an' gimme a gun or a club
or anything, an' watch yoreselves get licked. Called me a thief! What
are you fellers, then?--sticking me up an' busting me for a few measly
dollars. Why didn't you take my money an' lemme sleep, 'stead of waking
me up an' kicking me? I wouldn't 'a' cared then.
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