"Come on, Bat, we'll throw the shell on this old buzzard-head. I'm
number seven an' there's three down!" called the Texan.
The two swung from the saddles and the roman-nosed outlaw pricked his
ears and set against the rope with fore legs braced. The cowboy who
had him in tow took an extra dally around the saddle horn as the Texan,
hackamore in hand, felt his way inch by inch along the taut lead-rope.
As the man's hand touched his nose the outlaw shuddered and braced back
until only the whites of his eyes showed. Up came the hand and the
rawhide hackamore slipped slowly into place.
"He's a-goin' to ride with a hackamore!" cried someone as the Texan
busied himself with the knots. Suddenly the lead-rope slackened and
with a snort of fury the outlaw reared and lashed out with both
forefeet. The Texan stepped swiftly aside and as the horse's feet
struck the ground the loaded end of a rawhide quirt smashed against his
jaw.
Bat Lajune removed the saddle from the Texan's horse and stepped
forward with the thick felt pad which Tex, with a hand in the
cheek-strap of the hackamore, brushed along the outlaw's sides a few
times and then deftly threw over the animal's back. The horse, braced
against the rope, stood trembling in every muscle while Bat brought
forward the saddle with the right stirrup-leather and cinch thrown back
over the seat.
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