Hangmen always carry their own ropes," he concluded,
with grewsome humour. "Got it cut? Well, cut two more sections, same
length."
With incredible swiftness the two of them bound the feet, knees and
arms of the inert victim.
"I came prepared," said Sprouse, so calmly that Barnes marvelled at
the iron nerve of the man.
"Thirty feet of hemp clothes-line for a belt, properly prepared gags,
--and a sound silencer."
"By heaven, Sprouse, I--I believe he's dead," groaned Barnes. "We--we
haven't any right to kill a--"
"He'll be as much alive but not as lively as a cricket in ten
minutes," said the other. "Grab his heels. We'll chuck him over into
the bushes where he'll be out of harm's way. We may have to run like
hell down this path, partner, and I'd--I'd hate to step on his face."
"'Gad, you're a cold-blooded--"
"Don't be finicky," snapped Sprouse. "It wasn't much of a crack, and
it was necessary. There! You're safe for the time being," he grunted
as they laid the limp body down in the brush at the side of the narrow
trail. Straightening up, with a sigh of satisfaction, he laid his hand
on Barnes's shoulder. "We've just got to go through with it now,
Barnes.
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