He began to wonder whether Saleratus Bill
intended leaving him there a prey to what fortune chance might bring.
Although the odds were a hundred to one against his being heard, he
shouted several times. About as he had begun once more to struggle
against his bonds, his captor returned, leading Bob's horse, and cursing
audibly over the difficulty he had been put to in catching it.
Ignoring Bob's indignant demands, the gun-man loosed his ankles, taking,
however, the precaution of throwing the riata over the young man's
shoulders.
"Climb your horse," he commanded briefly.
"How do you expect me to do that, with my hands tied behind me?"
demanded Bob.
"I don't know. Just do it, and be quick," replied Saleratus Bill.
Bob's horse was nervous and restive. Three times he dropped his master
heavily to earth. Then Saleratus Bill, his evil eye wary, extended a
helping hand. This was what Bob was hoping for; but the gun-man was too
wily and experienced to allow himself within the captive's fettered
reach.
When Bob had finally gained his saddle, Saleratus Bill, leading the
horse, set off at a rapid pace cross country.
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