“And if that tumble doesn’t bump him some, I’m mistaken,” said Sleuth. “We can get him before he recovers.”
Nevertheless, he exhibited a certain amount of caution and apprehension as he reached the gully and peered into it.
“He may shoot,” called Hooker, holding back discreetly.
“Not he,” exulted Sleuth. “Here he is! Come on; we’ve got him!”
With seeming recklessness, Piper slid down into the gully, still gripping his revolver in his right hand.
“I never thought it of him,” said Roy, aghast—“never!”
A moment later, peering downward, he saw the other boy bending over the body of a man who lay amid some rocks at the bottom of the gully.
“Come down,” called Piper chokingly, his voice husky and shaking with excitement. “We’ve got him cold! He was knocked out, stunned by that fall.”
“HERE HE IS! COME ON; WE’VE GOT HIM!”—Page 242.]
Hooker, his courage reviving, descended into the gully, bringing down with him a small mass of loose earth and stones. He found Piper going through the pockets of the unconscious man.
“Here,” said Sleuth, passing over an automatic pistol, “take this thing, Hook. We’ll render him helpless by disarming him so that he can’t do much when he comes round.”
“Hadn’t—hadn’t we better tie his hands behind his back?” faltered Hooker.
“If we have to, we will,” assured Sleuth; “but it will be liable to cause him a great deal of suffering. You can see that he was shot in the right arm and shoulder. That’s where old Quinn plugged him. His coat sleeve is all bloody. The coat was removed while his wound was bandaged, and his arm is hanging loose inside of it now. Certainly he couldn’t run very fast that way. No wonder he didn’t get away.”
“He isn’t—dead—is he?” whispered Roy, staring at the pale face of the unfortunate wretch and noting a little trickle of blood which was running down across the man’s temple from a cut higher up in the edge of his scalp.
“Oh, I guess not,” answered Piper, with an hysterical little gulp of laughter. “He struck his head on the rocks down here when he fell, and that put him to sleep for fair; but I’ll wager he’ll come round all right pretty soon. This is a big piece of work for us, Hook, old pal. Five hundred dollars for the capture of Mr. James Wilson, _alias_ Gentleman Jim, won’t divvy up so bad between us. Eh? What?”