"Now, young feller," he said to Ted, "I'm goin' ter give yer a chance
fer yer white alley. I'm goin' ter try ter rope yer while yer dodges me.
If I get yer, why--I'll drag yer, see?"
Ted saw that he was to have no chance for his life whatever.
He was to be afoot, while the other man was to ride and try to rope him,
and, if he succeeded, drag him to death over the rough ground.
"Do you call that a chance for my life?" asked Ted.
"As much as you'll get," answered Woofer, with a canine grin. "Get out
an' take a fightin' chance, or I'll rope yer an' drag yer without it."
Ted looked around the circle of grinning faces about him, and saw that
there was no mercy for him. He must make the best fight he could.
Woofer had ridden out into the open and was coiling his rope in his hand
ready for a cast.
As Ted walked out he saw in the grove the horses of the soldiers, and
among them Sultan bridled and saddled, and a thought flashed through his
mind that before the duel was ended he might find use for his beautiful
stallion.
As soon as Ted was in the open, Woofer began to circle around him on a
lope, steadily increasing the pony's speed, at the same time keeping the
rope swinging about his head.
Ted wheeled on his heels, always keeping his face to the horseman, the
pivot, as it were, of this little spectacle.
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