The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the breeze and
the wild notes of far-off trailing coyotes.
Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man
raised himself very cautiously; he glanced at his companions, and looked
long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he
softly lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do.
Presently he again lifted his head and turned it as if listening
intently. His companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep.
Gently he slipped aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and
guarded of movement; it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between
the rustlers with stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's,
and he went toward the cabin door.
He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting
six-shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached
the door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy
movements, his passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom
hovered over the rustler chief. If he stirred!--Hare knew instantly that
this softly stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the
woman pledged in his creed.
Pages:
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376