Grim and forbidding loomed the
buildings. Not a light showed, and she pictured them peopled with
lurking forms that waited to leap out as they passed and throttle the
man who had rescued her from the brutish Purdy. She was sorry she had
been nasty to Endicott. She wanted to tell him so, but it was too
late. She thought of the revolver that Jennie had given her, and
slipping her hand into her pocket she grasped it by the butt. At
least, she could do for him what he had done for her. She could shoot
the first man to lay hands on him.
Suddenly her heart stood still and her lips pressed tight. A rider
emerged from the black shadow of the bunk-house.
"Hands up!" The girl's revolver was levelled at the man's head, and
the next instant she heard the Texan laugh softly.
"Just point it the other way, please, if it's loaded. A fellow shot me
with one of those once an' I had a headache all the rest of the
evenin'." His horse nosed in beside hers. "It's just as I thought,"
he explained. "Everyone around the outfit's dead to the world. Bein'
up all night dancin', an' most of the next day trailin' home, you
couldn't get 'em up for a poker game--let alone hangin' a pilgrim."
Alice's fear vanished the moment the Texan appeared. His air of
absolute self-confidence in his ability to handle a situation compelled
the confidence of others.
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