It was low, a scant story in height, but slightly elevated
from the ground, leaving a vacant space beneath. It was built of logs,
well mortised together, and plastered between with clay. The roof
sloped barely enough to shed water, and there were no windows on the
end toward the cliff, or along the one side which she could see from
where she lay. The single door must open from the front, and
apparently the house had been erected with the thought that it might
some time be used for purposes of defence, as it had almost the
appearance of a fort. The larger building was not entirely unlike this
in general design, except that small openings had been cut in the log
walls, and a rude chimney arose through the roof. Both appeared
deserted. Confident there could be no better time for the venture,
Stella signalled with her hand for the others to join her.
They advanced slowly, Cavendish holding the revolver at the Mexican's
head, the latter grinning savagely, his dark eyes never still. Bitter
hate, desperate resolve, marked his every action, although he sought to
appear indifferent.
Pages:
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338