Foy dropped like a poled bullock; his head struck heavily against the sharp corner of a rock.

Pringle pounced on the stricken man.

He threw Foy's sixshooter aside; he pulled Foy's wrists behind him and tied them tightly with a handkerchief.

Then he rolled his captive over.
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.