Prev | Current Page 289 | Next

Seltzer, Charles Alden, 1875-1942

"The Trail Horde"


He was energy, personified. He got water, bathed the wound in Lawler's
shoulder; bandaged it, and at last grinned widely as Lawler got up,
saying he felt better.
A little later they went out and mounted their horses. Lawler was pale,
though he sat steadily in the saddle; and Shorty, big, exuding elation,
grinned broadly as he glanced at the cabin as they rode away from it.
They rode up the river trail; Shorty expressing his elation by emitting
low chuckles of grim mirth; Lawler silent, riding steadily, his gaze
straight ahead.
It took them long to reach the point on the plains where the trails
diverged. And then Lawler spoke. "Shorty, you go back to Hamlin's and
tell mother I killed Antrim. You needn't mention this scratch I've got."
"Where you goin'?" demanded Shorty.
"Shorty," said Lawler evenly; "you do as I say."
"I'll be damned if I do!" declared Shorty, his face flushing. "That's
the kind of palaver Blackburn handed me when he sent me after Caldwell's
outfit, makin' me miss the big scrap. I ain't missin' nothin' else. If
this thing is to be a clean-up I'm goin' to be right close when the
cleanin' is bein' done!
"I'm stayin' right here, as long as you stay! An' when you get goin',
little Shorty will be taggin' along, achin' to salivate some more of the
scum that's been makin' things howl in these parts.


Pages:
277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301
sprawdz strone niezarejestrowana strona no host brak hosta 906