The Bar D man was standing over Mary Bransford.

The girl was on her back, her white face upturned, her eyes closed.
Grinning with hideous joy, Owen threw the rope.

The loop opened, widened, and dropped cleanly over Dale's head.
Dale threw up both hands, trying to grasp the sinuous thing that had encircled his neck, but the little man jerked the rope viciously and the noose tightened.

The force of the jerk pulled Dale off his balance, and he reeled against the partition.
Before he could regain his equilibrium Owen leaned far over the top of the partition.

Exerting the last ounce of his strength Owen lifted, and Dale swung upward, swaying like an eccentric pendulum, his feet well off the floor.
Dale's back was toward the wall, and he twisted and squirmed like a cat to swing himself around so that he could face it.
During the time Dale struggled to turn, Owen moved rapidly.