The
blade of Moore's knife had slashed his forearm, in the early moments of
their fierce struggle, and blood was trickling down his wrist, yet not
in sufficient quantity to give him any great concern. Once beyond the
probability of pursuit, he turned up his sleeve and made some effort to
minister to the gash, satisfying himself quickly that it was of trivial
nature.
From where he lay he could see across the bare, rock-strewn hillside to
the distant hut, outlined by the gleam of light within, and perceive
the black silhouette of the shaft-house. The sound of clanking
machinery reached his ears, but the voices of the men failed to carry
so far. He could dimly distinguish their figures as they passed in and
out of the glare of light, and was aware that Moore had been found and
carried within the hut, but remained ignorant of the fact that the
leaving of a knife in the window had revealed his identity. There was
no attempt at pursuit, which gave him confidence that Lacy failed to
comprehend the importance of what had been overheard, yet he clung
closely to his hiding-place until all the men had re-entered the office.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220