She seemed to give him up as he stood there with his heart, in his throat;
she turned back to Barry.
"Dan!" she pleaded.
She had not touched him, but he made a vague gesture as though brushing
away a restraining hand. She cried: "If you come close to them--if, they
start shooting--you might want to fight back--"
"They shot before," he answered, "and I didn't fire once."
"But the second time?"
To be sure, there would be danger in it, but as Barry himself had said, if
the way was closed to him he could surrender to them, and they could not
harm him. Vic tried in vain to understand this overmastering terror in the
girl, for she seemed more afraid of what Dan might do to the posse than
what the posse might do to Dan.
"This ain't a day for fightin'," said Dan, and he waved towards the
mountains. It was one of those misty spring days when the sun raises a
vapor from the earth and the clouds blow low around the upper peaks; every
ravine was poured full of blue shadow, and even high up the slopes, where
patches of snow had melted, grass glimmered, a tender green among the
white.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100