The throbbing pain in his
head was forgotten in the blind rage that possessed him. He had only one
longing, to stand within striking distance of the cowardly curs, only
one fear, that they should escape him. Swiftly, silently, he stole down
the lane, every nerve, every muscle tense as a steel spring. His throat
was hot, his eyes so dazzled that he could scarcely see; his breath came
in quick gasps; his hands were trembling as with a nervous chill. The
storm had partially blown away. It had become so light that he could
dimly discern a number of figures at the entrance to the lane. Having
his quarry in sight, Cameron crouched in the fence corner, holding hard
by the rail till he should become master of himself. He could hear their
explosions of suppressed laughter. It was some minutes before he had
himself in hand, then with a swift silent run he stood among them.
So busy were they in recounting the various incidents in the recent
"chivaree," that before they were aware Cameron was upon them. At his
approach the circle broke and scattered, some flying to the fence. But
Perkins with some others stood their ground.
"Hello, Cameron!" drawled Perkins. "Did you see our cows? I thought I
heard some of them down the line."
For answer Cameron launched himself at him like a bolt from a bow.
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