Lawler held the flask to the woman's half-open mouth, and smiled when
several drops of the strong spirits trickled over her tongue. Then he
walked to the wood pile and replenished the fire. Returning, he saw Link
standing close to the bunk, smiling bestially at the upturned face. When
Lawler caught sight of him he was fingering the disordered hair, lifting
it and letting it filter through his fingers.
Without a word, Lawler leaped and struck with bitter malignance. Not a
sound escaped Link as he fell. Lawler lifted him bodily, threw him upon
the pile of wood in the corner, where he lay huddled up, unconscious.
Wheeling swiftly, his eyes ablaze with the terrible passion that had
seized him, Lawler faced the bunk. The woman's head was moving slowly
from side to side, as though she were making an effort to lift it; her
eyelids were fluttering, and her hands were straying over the
bedclothing, the fingers closing and unclosing.
Lawler made a horrible grimace at Givens.
"Get out of here, damn you!" he said. "Go out and take care of her
horse--anything! If you are in here when she wakes up, I'll kill you!
And take that other skunk out of here, too--take him to the dugout, and
don't come back here for an hour!"
He watched impatiently while Givens seized his companion and dragged him
outside.
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