“An’, then, ergin, Red, if yer can part comp’ny with that thar tree long ernough ter come over hyar I’ll lend ye some dry ammernution fer yer gun, an’ we’ll play high rooster in ther grass.” Red Dick made no reply to the taunts of Dan. He was in no position to offer offense or defense. He was becoming tired and hopeless. He could see that no move had been made toward his rescue; in fact, there seemed nothing the men could do. Fighting Dan rode down in the water to his horse’s sides and shouted to Red Dick: “Say, Red, blamed ’f I b’lieve yer was born ter be drownded--yer’d look better hangin’. An’ I hates ter set hyar an’ see yer miss yer fate. What yer say, Red, had ye druther slop under an’ die now like er man er come ershore an’ take yer charnces with me?” Red Dick gasped: “Save me!” Fighting Dan slowly uncoiled his lariat, then he watched the loops as he arranged them immediately, and then turned to Dick. “I hates ter do it an’ I hates not ter, so thar ye be, Red. I’m goin ’ter try ye once an’ ’f I git ye, yer hangs. Thet’s fair, ain’t it?” The riata was swirling slowly about the dark man’s head. The rope seethed through the air, and settled about Red’s neck, and was drawn taut, just as he was going under again. Fighting Dan wheeled his horse and dug his spurs deep. The animal splashed furiously up the bank, while the swirling body of Red Dick at the end of the lariat fairly made the water boil. Fighting Dan slid from his horse, loosened the coils about Red’s neck, threw the half-conscious man over on his face, and gave him a resounding slap between the shoulders. “You shore missed drowndin’ by ther skin o’ yer neck,” remarked Dan, as the gasping, nearly suffocated man showed signs of reviving. “Ye see ’f I hadn’t skun yer neck with ther rope ye’d been swimmin’ fer Davy Jones’ place o’ business now.” “What ye goin’ ter do with me?” croaked Red. “Yer fate ain’t fully settled yet, Red, but I shore think hangin’ is much more becomin’ ter yore style er beauty; don’t yer, Red?” CHAPTER VIII. PA-E-HAS-KA TRAPPED. Buffalo Bill watched Fighting Dan out of sight with his prisoner. About the latter’s neck a lariat was tied just tight enough so as not to be choking, yet too close to permit of being slipped. The prisoner was allowed to cling to the saddlehorn and run by the side of the easily loping horse--and so they disappeared over the hill. The scout realized that this hanging talk was all for the prisoner and his friends, and that the spectacular manner of Red Dick’s taking away was also to impress the men on the opposite side of the river, who were raving and yelling themselves hoarse in threats at Fighting Dan. Buffalo Bill had seen enough of the big gambler to know that he would not seriously injure Red Dick, but had no doubt there would be a near lynching to scare the prisoner.