One
leg, however, was pinned beneath the animal's body and the
force of the fall jarred the revolver from Billy's hand to drop
just beyond his reach.
His carbine was in its boot at the horse's side, and the
animal was lying upon it. Instantly Bridge rode to his side and
covered him with his revolver.
"Don't move," he commanded, "or I'll be under the painful
necessity of terminating your earthly endeavors right here and
now."
"Well, for the love o' Mike!" cried the fallen bandit
"You?"
Bridge was off his horse the instant that the familiar voice
sounded in his ears.
"Billy!" he exclaimed. "Why--Billy--was it you who
robbed the bank?"
Even as he spoke Bridge was busy easing the weight of the
dead pony from Billy's leg.
"Anything broken?" he asked as the bandit struggled to
free himself.
"Not so you could notice it," replied Billy, and a moment
later he was on his feet. "Say, bo," he added, "it's a mighty
good thing you dropped little pinto here, for I'd a sure got
you my next shot. Gee! it makes me sweat to think of it. But
about this bank robbin' business. You can't exactly say that
I robbed a bank. That money was the enemy's resources, an' I
just nicked their resources. That's war. That ain't robbery.
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