And yet the smile showed that he was still master of himself.
Very deliberately he returned to the rock upon which he had been sitting, ripping off his coat and tearing away the sleeve of his woollen shirt.

Twisting the sleeve into the form of a rude rope, he tied it loosely around his leg, just above the ankle.

Then he thrust his knife between the improvised rope and the leg, forming a crude tourniquet.

He twisted the knife until tears of pain formed in his eyes.

Then he fastened the knife by tucking the haft under the rope.
His movements had been very deliberate, but sure, and in a few minutes he hobbled to his pony and swung into the saddle.
He had seen men who had been bitten by rattlers--had seen them die.
And he knew that if he did not get help within half an hour there would be little use of doing anything further.