United States or Estonia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
And only a knife in the back or a bullet from some drunken bully's gun awaits you." "That isn't a very hopeful outlook, I'll admit," replied Neale, thoughtfully. At this point Hough returned with a pale, slender man whose clothes and gait were not American. He introduced him as Ancliffe. Neale felt another accession of interest. Benton might be hell, but he was meeting new types of men and women.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Ancliffe. "Well, I'll block Durade's gang. Will you save the girl?" "Assuredly," answered the imperturbable Englishman. "Where shall I take her?" "Where CAN she be safe? The troop camp? No, too far, ... Aha! take her to Stanton. Tell Stanton the truth. Stanton will hide her. Then find Neale and King." Hough turned to Allie.
Ancliffe had all an Englishman's intelligent observing powers, and the conclusion he drew was that Larry had reacted to a situation familiar to him. Neale took more credence in what Slingerland had told him at Medicine Bow. That night Hough and then many other acquaintances halted Neale to gossip about Larry Reel King. The cowboy had been recognized by Texans visiting Benton.
They had just seated themselves when the two gamblers returned, followed by Durade. He was rubbing his hands in satisfaction. "What was the fuss about?" queried Hough, tipping the ashes off his cigar. "Some drunks after money they had lost." "And got thrown out for their pains?" inquired Ancliffe. "Yes. Mull and Fresno are out there now." The game was taken up again.
It was a tight squeeze, or else some one held him back. There came a crashing of wood; Ancliffe's body whirled in the aperture and he struggled violently. Allie heard hissing, sibilant Spanish utterances. She stood petrified, certain that Durade had attacked Ancliffe. Suddenly the Englishman crashed through, drawing a supple, twisting, slender man with him.
A woman of fair face, bare of arm and neck, glittering with diamonds, swept into the parlor. She had great, dark-blue eyes full of shadows and they flashed from Ancliffe to Allie and back again. "What's happened? You're pale as death! ... Ancliffe! Your hands your breast! ... My God!" She bent over him. "Stanton, I've been cut up and Hough is dead." "Oh, this horrible Benton!" cried the woman.
The little room seemed a refuge for Allie, yet it was oppressive, as had been the atmosphere of the parlor where Ancliffe lay. But this oppressiveness was not death. Allie had become familiar with death near at hand. This refuge made her flesh creep. The room was not the home of any one it was not inhabited, it was not livable.
So, forgetful of the other beside her, Allie Lee watched Ancliffe, sustained by a nameless spirit, feeling with tragic pity her duty as a woman to pray for him, to stay beside him, that he might not be alone when he died. And while she watched, with the fading of that singular radiance, there returned to his face a slow, careless weariness. "He's gone!" murmured Stanton, rising.
She appeared about to make a quick and passionate reply, in anger and wounded pride, but she controlled the impulse. She left the room with Ancliffe. "Neale, do you know Stanton is infatuated with you?" asked Hough, thoughtfully. "Nonsense!" replied Neale. "She is, though. These women can't fool me. I told you days ago I suspected that. Now I'll gamble on it. And you know how I play my cards."
But you're no spiker or capper or boss. I know that sort. And I can spot a gambler a mile. The whole world meets out here in Benton. But not many young men like you wander into my place." "Like me? How so?" "The men here are wolves on the scent for flesh; like bandits on the trail of gold.... But you you're like my friend Ancliffe." "Who is he?" asked Neale, politely. "WHO is he? God only knows.
Word Of The Day