"I am," he answered. "I have been forced to learn it thoroughly. By the
way, Miss Andres,"--he added, without turning his head, as he knelt on the
ground to take food from the pack,--"that Winchester will do you no good.
It is not loaded. I have the shells in my belt." He arose, facing her, and
throwing open his coat, touched the butt of a Colt forty-five that hung in
a shoulder holster under his left armpit. "This will serve in case quick
action is needed, and it is always safely out of your reach, you see."
The girl laughed. "I admit that I was tempted," she said. "I might have
known that you put the rifle within my reach to try me."
"I thought it would save you needless disappointment to make things clear
at once," he answered. "Breakfast is ready."
The incident threw a strong light upon the character with which Sibyl had
to deal. She realized, more than ever, that her only hope lay in so
winning this man's sympathies and friendship that he would turn against
whoever had forced him into his present position. The struggle was to be
one of those silent battles of the spirit, where the forces that war are
not seen but only felt, and where those who fight must often fight with
smiling faces.
Pages:
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450