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The Desire of the Moth; and the Come On by Eugene Manlove Rhodes
page 73 of 164 (44%)
"Just right for our business, isn't it? Make yourself at home, while
I take a peep around about." He bent to peer through bush and crack.
"Nothing stirring," he announced. He leaned his rifle against a
walling rock. "Let's have a look at that water."

He raised the canteen to his lips. Pringle struck swift and hard to
the tilted chin. Foy dropped like a poled bullock; his head struck
heavily against the sharp corner of a rock. Pringle pounced on the
stricken man. He threw Foy's sixshooter aside; he pulled Foy's wrists
behind him and tied them tightly with a handkerchief. Then he rolled
his captive over.

Foy's eyes opened; they rolled back till only the whites were visible;
his lips twitched. Pringle hastily bound his handkerchief to the gash
the stone had made; he sprinkled the blood-streaked face with water;
he spilled drops of water between the parted lips. Foy did not revive.

Pringle stuck his hat on the rifle muzzle and waved it over the
parapet of rock.

"Hello!" he shouted. "Bring on your reward! I've got Foy! It's
me--Pringle! Come get him; and be quick--he's bleeding mighty bad."

"Come out, you! Hands up and no monkey business!" answered a startled
voice not fifty yards away.

"Who's that? That you, Nueces? Give me your word and I'll lug him out.
No time to lose--he's hurt, and hurt bad."

"You play fair and we will. I give my word!" shouted Nueces.
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