own time. You can put 'em down now, Zang, so 's I can try out a little fit about your wrists."
The pair of steel wristlets that once before had linked the outlaw's hands that day of the fight in Hilma's cabin now glinted in Original's left hand. With his right he still kept Zang covered. The man's features now had clotted into deadly hate. He seemed almost on the point of throwing caution to the winds and leaping upon the little range inspector, who stood smiling and with the waiting handcuffs.
"I oughta 've let her kill you, Blunt, that last time we met up," the outlaw snarled. "She fought me because I took the gun from her when she was just about to put you out. I 'm dead sorry I did."
Original clicked the cuffs about Zang's wrists as he answered lightly:
"She 's a nice girl, Zang—leastways, I 've found her so. But rough—rough as a porcupine's back. I 'm beholden to you, Zang, for teachin' her good manners. Now you 'll excuse me, Zang, but I 'm not copperin' any bets right here and so" He finished by deftly gagging the man with a handkerchief and a small square of wood he fished from a pocket.
