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. "Here goes!" Pringle pitched the rifle over. A moment later he staggered out between the rocks, bearing Foy's heavy weight in his arms. The head hung helpless, blood-spattered; the body was limp and slack; the legs dragged sprawling; the dreaded hands were bound. Pringle laid his burden on the grass. "Here he is, you hyenas! His hands are tied--are you still afraid of him? Damn you! The man's bleeding to death!" Chapter VI "You treacherous, dirty hound!" said Breslin. "Of all the low-down skunks I ever seen, you sure are the skunkiest!" said Nueces. "The sheriff was right after all. Cur-dog fits you to a T." He finished washing out the cut on Foy's head as he spoke. "Now the bandages, Anastacio. We'll have the blood stopped in a jiffy. Funny he hasn't come to. It's been a long while. It ain't the head ails him. This isn't such a deep cut; it oughtn't to put him out. Just happened to strike a vein." He bound up the cut with the deftness of experience. "I hit him under the jaw," observed Pringle. "That's what did the business for him. He'll be around directly." Anastacio looked up at Pringle; measureless contempt was in his eyes. "Judas Iscariot could have sublet his job to you at half price if you'd been in the neighborhood. You are the limit, plus! I hope to see you fry in a New English hell!" "Oh, that's all right, too," said Pringle unabashed. "I might just as well have that forty-five hundred as anyone. It wouldn't amount to much split amongst all you fellows, but it's quite a bundle for one man. That'll keep the wolf from the well-known door for quite a while." "You won't touch a cent of it!" declared the sheriff. "Won't I though? We'll see about that. I captured him alone, didn't I? Oh, I reckon I'll finger the money, alrighty!" "Here, fellows; give him a bait of whisky," said Creagan. Breslin, kneeling at Foy's side, took the extended flask. They administered the stimulant cautiously, a sip at a time. Foy's eyes flickered; his breath came freer. "He's coming!" said Breslin. "Give him a sip of water now."