For a mere
fraction of fifty thousand dollars he would kill anybody, so long as
the deed could be done with reasonable safety to himself. Why then
should any man stay his hand against him with such a reward hanging
over his head? As Sam retreated backwards from among his former friends
they saw in his eyes what they had never seen there before, something
that was not exactly fear, but a look of furtive suspicion against the
whole human race.
Out in the open air once again Sam breathed more freely. He must get
away from Salt Lick, and that quickly. Once on the prairie he could
make up his mind what the next move was to be. He kept his revolver in
his hand, not daring to put it into its holster. Every sound made him
jump, and he was afraid to stand in the open, yet he could not remain
constantly with his back to the wall. Poor Buller's horse, fully
accoutred, cropped the grass by the side of the road. To be a horse-
thief was, of course, worse than to be a murderer, but there was no
help for it; without the horse escape was impossible. He secured the
animal with but little trouble and sprang upon its back.
As he mounted, a shot rang out from the saloon. Sam whirled around in
the saddle, but no one was to be seen; nothing but a thin film of
pistol smoke melting in the air above the open door.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238