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I felt something in me break, and then the earth rose up and hit me in the face." "I reckon it was just the last ounce of breath going out of you with a pop. They're hunting hard, Mr. Mason, but they can't pick up the trace of a footstep. Slade must be mad clean through." "Slade! Slade! Who's Slade?" "Slade is a spy partly, and an outlaw mostly, 'cause he often works on his own hook.
In the rumpus the paper disappeared. I assumed the responsibility of giving him an opiate." "Quite right," approved Trendon. "I'll go down. Will you come with me, sir?" he said to the captain. They found Slade in profound slumber. "Won't do to wake him now," growled Trendon. "Hello, what's here?"
Slade said he would leave at daybreak." She abruptly turned away, and made no remonstrance when Elsie offered her lips to Lennon for a good-night kiss. Left alone, he sat down in one of the big chairs and fell to planning how, after the relocation of the copper lode, he would make his escape. He would bring a sheriff's posse to arrest Slade and his fellow criminals.
"Well, an' what did he punch ye for this time?" It was old Slade who put the question, seated on a chest with his back against the bulkhead. His pot was balanced on his knee, and his venerable, sardonic face, with the scanty white hair clinging about the temples, addressed Conroy with slow mockery. Conroy hesitated. "It was over coilin' away some gear," he said. Slade waited, and he had to go on.
All care rolled from his shoulders even the desire to see his mother and Sue and those whom he loved at home was forgotten in the rosy prospect before him. The next day he told Mr. Slade of his plans, and read him part of his mother's letter. "Very sensible woman, your mother," his employer answered, with his bluff heartiness. "Just the thing for you to do; and I've got the very spot.
It was the Nevada Vigilantes who were most strongly of the belief that death and not banishment was the proper punishment for Slade. The leader of the marching men calmly told Slade that the Committee had decided to hang him; and, once the news was sure, Slade broke out into lamentations. This was often the case with men who had been bullies and terrors.
"We think he has three or four hundred men and my regiment can deal with that number. We will defile to the right without noise and make our way up the mountain. An Ohio regiment, which can also deal with Slade if it catches him, will defile to the left. Maybe we can trap these irregulars between us. Sergeant Whitley will guide my force."
Slade still begged to see his wife, most piteously, and it seemed hard to deny his request; but the bloody consequences that were sure to follow the inevitable attempt at a rescue, that her presence and entreaties would have certainly incited, forbade the granting of his request.
You said it yourself. What you hanging fire for, Pete?" The heavy revolver swung around in another seemingly careless gesture. Pete and the wounded Navaho hogtied Lennon with expert quickness. Slade shifted around to nudge Farley in the ribs with the toe of his cowhide boot. The badly wounded man stirred and opened his haggard eyes to blink at the disturber. "Has Cochise What! you?" he murmured.
The Navaho wheeled his pony and raced away down cañon on the back trail. The basket cage of the lift swung out over the cliff brink. It began to lower. Regardless of hoof marks, Slade spurred his pony up the foot ledges. Lennon followed with the others. A glance at the trader's face had told him danger was toward. Lennon could think of but two explanations.
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