Putting his
shoulder to the door, the man easily forced it open against her lighter
weight. As he crossed the threshold, she sprang to the farthest corner of
the little room, and cowered, trembling--too shaken with horror to cry
out. A moment he paused; then started toward her.
At that instant, the convict burst through the underbrush into the little
opening.
Hearing the sound, Rutlidge wheeled and sprang to the open door.
The convict was breathing heavily from the exertion of a hard run.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Rutlidge, sharply. "What's the
matter?"
"Some one is following my trail down from Granite Peak."
"Well, what are you carrying that rifle for?" said Rutlidge, harshly, with
an oath.
"There may be others near enough to hear a shot," answered the convict.
"Besides, Mr. Rutlidge, this is your part of the game--not mine. I did not
agree to commit murder for you."
"Where did you see him?"
"A half mile beyond the head of the gulch, where we turn off to go to the
supply point."
Rutlidge, rifle in hand, stepped from the house. "You stay here and take
care of the girl--and see that she doesn't scream." With the last word he
set out at a run.
Pages:
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472