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Page 71
When night came there was shooting from the ridge, but the return
fire came only from one rifle, that of Ping Wing. Even this ceased
in about half an hour, but by that time the Overlanders met in the
rear of the party on the ridge. Here they spread out and began to
move cautiously toward the camp, hoping to come upon their
attackers, either singly or together, and drive them before them.
Grace had gone a short distance when she saw a man rise suddenly
about ten feet in front of her. Without a sound she rose and,
slipping her revolver to her left hand, grasped her lasso with her
right. It was a true throw, and the rope fell over the man's
shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides. Without a moment's
hesitation, the girl snubbed the lasso about a tree and, holding
it firmly, fired three signal shots into the air.
The man was heavy, and the best Grace could do was to keep the
rope taut, taking up the slack when the fellow tried to roll
toward her to loosen the strain.
"I'll get you for this!" raged the ruffian.
"Keep quiet or I'll get you first."
Rifles began to bang toward the camp. Three sides were engaged, so
it seemed to Grace, judging by the sound. What was the meaning of
that?
The sound of voices presently reached her ears. The prisoner
heard, too, and began, to stir.
"Keep quiet!" ordered Grace. "One sound from you and I will shoot.
Understand?"
"Yes," he muttered, and sank back.
Grace strained her ears. Were the men of her party or of that of
the roped villain? To her relief the men--apparently only two of
them--passed by without discovering her and her prisoner, and he,
intimidated, kept quiet.
Suddenly a loud, penetrating "Coo-e-e-e-e!" woke the echoes of the
mountains. It was the call of the cowboy, a friendly, thrilling
sound.
A moment of silence, then "Overla-a-a-and!"
"Overla-a-a-and!" cried Grace joyfully. "Careful, man. I can yell
and shoot at the same time," she told her prisoner, who had moved.
Two men came running over the rocks.
"Mrs. Gray!" shouted the guide.
"Here! Careful! I have a prisoner!"
"Hullo, kid," cried a familiar voice.
"That's Bud Thomas's voice! The man who gave me this lasso,"
answered Grace, laughing joyously, if a bit hysterically.
"Sure, it's me. And a lot of the other boys!"
The two men came over to Grace's side.
"Hello, kid. You're a smart one. That fellow's Snake McGlory, the
hombre we boys came out to get."
The fighting was over, for the members of McGlory's gang, for such
they were, were captured, some of them wounded.
"Steve Carver got his," said Lang, on the way back to camp, the
two men seeing that McGlory went quietly. "He was the fellow who
shot at us and some of this man's gang got him, probably thinking
he was one of our outfit."
"Oh, poor little Lindy!" murmured Grace.
Back at the camp Grace had to tell her story.
"And I caught him because you boys gave me that lasso. Wasn't I
thankful that I had the rope and had learned to use it! But how
did you boys happen to come along?"
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