He dropped the rifle and looked wildly around for a another weapon.
He saw a lariat hanging from a peg on the kitchen wall.

It was Sanderson's rope--Owen knew it.

Sanderson had oiled it, and had hung it from the peg to dry.
Owen whined with joy when he saw it.

His face working, odd guttural sounds coming from his throat, Owen leaped for the rope and pulled it from the peg.

Swiftly uncoiling it, he glanced at the loop to make sure it would run well; then with a bound he was on the chair and peering over the top of the partition, the rope in hand, the noose dangling.
He saw Dale directly beneath it.