It showed
how fast Pete Glass could work and how well he knew Alder, for Vic himself
could not have selected five cooler fighters among the villagers or five
finer mounts. The posse switched around the end of the street and darted
up the hill like the curling lash of a whip.
"Good," said Vic Gregg. "The damn fools will wind their horses before they
hit the pass."
He put Grey Molly into an easy trot, for the floor of the pass dipped up
and down, littered with sharp-toothed rocks or treacherous, rolling ones,
as bad a place for speed as a stiff upslope. According to his nicest
calculation the posse could not reach the edge of the gulch before he was
at the farther side, out of range of everything except a long chance shot,
so he took note of things as he went and observed a spot of pale silver
skirting through the brush on the eastern ridge of the gorge. There would
be moonlight that night and another chance in favor of Pete Glass. He
remembered then, with quiet content, that jogging in the holster was a
power which with six words might stop those six pursuers.
Pages:
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64