However, as there were but two
rooms, not overly stocked with furniture, the gloom was not a serious
obstacle, so that in less than ten minutes they emerged once more into
the open bearing their spoils--Westcott, a slab of bacon and a small
frying-pan; Brennan, a paper sack of corn meal, with a couple of
specimens of canned goods. He had also resurrected a gunny sack
somewhere, in which their things were carefully wrapped, and made
secure for transportation.
"Didn't feel no terbacco, did yer, Jim?" the marshal questioned
solicitously. "I reckon not though; ol' Beecher never would leave
nuthin' like that lyin' round. Well, Lord! we ought ter be thankful
fer what we've got. Now if we can only get away with them hosses."
They wormed their way forward to the edge of the road through a fringe
of bushes, Westcott laden with the bundle. Except for the sound of
distant voices and an occasional loud laugh, the night was still. They
could almost hear their own breathing, and the crackle of a dry twig
underfoot sounded to strained nerves like the report of a gun.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285