The valley before him was
black and silent. A blaze of light shone out through the broken door
and window of the smaller cabin, and he chuckled at remembrance of the
last scene he had witnessed there--the fainting girl lying in
Westcott's arms. Naturally, and ordinarily, Mr. Brennan was
considerable of a cynic, but just now he felt in a far more genial and
sympathetic mood.
"Jim's some man," he confided to himself, unconsciously speaking aloud.
"An' the girl's a nervy little thing--almighty good lookin', too. I
reckon it'll cost me a month's salary fer a weddin' present, so maybe
the joke's on me." His mind reverted to Mendez. "Five thousand on the
old cuss," he muttered gloomily, "an' somebody else got the chance to
pot him. Well, by hooky, whoever it was sure did a good job--it was
thet shotgun cooked his goose, judgin' from the way his face was
peppered. Five thousand dollars--oh, hell!"
His eyes followed the outline of the valley, able to distinguish the
darker silhouette of the cliffs outstanding against the sky sprinkled
with stars.
Pages:
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416