Leaping off the chair, keeping the rope taut over the top of the partition, Owen ran across the kitchen and swiftly looped the end of the rope around a wooden bar that was used to fasten the rear outside door.
Then, running into the front room, he got the rifle, and returning to the kitchen he got on the chair beside the partition.
He could hear Dale cursing.

The man's legs were thrashing about, striking the boards of the partition.

Owen could hear his breath as it coughed in his throat.

But the little man merely grinned, and crouched on the chair, waiting.
He was waiting for what he knew would come next.

Dale would succeed in twisting his body around before the rope could strangle him, he would grasp the rope and pull himself upward until he could reach the top of the partition with his hands.
And while Owen watched and waited, Dale's hands came up and gripped the top of the wall--both hands, huge and muscular.