"
"He's a conceited fool," broke in Teresa in a high voice, with a slight
return of her old fury, "or he'd have guessed where that shot came
from; and," she added in a lower tone, looking down at her limp and
nerveless fingers, "he wouldn't have let a poor, weak, nervous wretch
like me get away."
"But his deputy may put two and two together, and connect your escape
with it."
Teresa's eyes flashed. "It would be like the dog, just to save his
pride, to swear it was an ambush of my friends, and that he was
overpowered by numbers. Oh yes! I see it all!" she almost screamed,
lashing herself into a rage at the bare contemplation of this
diminution of her glory. "That's the dirty lie he tells everywhere, and
is telling now."
She stamped her feet and glanced savagely around, as if at any risk to
proclaim the falsehood. Low turned his impassive, truthful face towards
her.
"Sheriff Dunn," he began gravely, "is a politician, and a fool when he
takes to the trail as a hunter of man or beast. But he is not a coward
nor a liar. Your chances would be better if he were--if he laid your
escape to an ambush of your friends, than if his pride held you alone
responsible.
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