Bob watched with
distinct pleasure her lithe, active figure making its way through the
tangle of underbrush, finally emerging into the clear and climbing with
swift, sure movements to the little elevation on which grew the
beautiful, pink-leaved dogwoods. She turned when she had gained the
level of the yellow pine, to wave her hand at her companions. Even at
the distance, Bob could make out the flush of her cheeks and divine the
delighted sparkle of her eyes.
But as she turned, her gesture was arrested in midair, and almost
instantly she uttered a piercing scream. Bob had time to take a half
step forward. Then a heavy blow on the back of his neck threw him
forward. He stumbled and fell on his face. As he left his feet, the
crash of two revolver shots in quick succession rang in his ears.
XXXIII
Oldham's cold rage carried him to the railroad and into his berth. Then,
with the regular beat and throb of the carwheels over the sleepers,
other considerations forced themselves upon him. Consequences demanded
recognition.
The land agent had not for many years permitted himself to act on
impulse.
Pages:
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875