But, indistinct as it was, it
was the voice of the man he was thinking of as far away, and it sent a
thrill of alternate awe and pleasure through his pulses.
He glanced quickly around. The moon was hidden by a passing cloud, and
only the faint outlines of the house he had just quitted were visible.
"Is that you, Spence?" he said tremulously.
"Yes," replied the voice, and a figure dimly emerged from the corner of
the corral.
"Lay low, lay low, for God's sake," said Patterson, hurriedly throwing
himself upon the apparition. "The sheriff and his posse are in there."
"But I must speak to you a moment," said the figure.
"Wait," said Patterson, glancing towards the building. Its blank,
shutterless windows revealed no inner light; a profound silence
encompassed it. "Come quick," he whispered. Letting his grasp slip down
to the unresisting hand of the stranger, he half-dragged, half-led him,
brushing against the wall, into the open door of the deserted bar-room
he had just quitted, locked the inner door, poured a glass of whiskey
from a decanter, gave it to him, and then watched him drain it at a
single draught.
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