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Updated: May 3, 2025
Bill had a long, lean face, a misty eye, and a pair of drooping, sad mustaches. As Jasper Lanning once said: "Bill Dozier always looked like he was just away from a funeral or just goin' to one." This night the dull eye of Bill was alight. "Gents," he said, "maybe you-all is disappointed. I heard some talk comin' up here that maybe the boy had laid over for the night in Sullivan's house.
No room for argument now; and the blind, animal hate which Scottie and La Roche and Clune felt for Dozier was sure to drive them to extremities. Andrew sat in the dark, hurriedly going over his rifle and his revolver. Once he was about to throw open the door and try the effect of a surprise attack. He might plant two shots before there was a return; he let the idea slip away from him.
Well, between you and me, I wish he'd gotten away clean-handed. But too late now. "By the way," he went on, "I'd like to take a squint at your attic, too. That ladder goes up to it, I guess." "Go ahead," said Pop. And once more he tamped his pipe. There was a sharp, shrill cry from the boy, and Dozier whirled on him. He saw a pale, scared face. "What's the matter?" he asked sharply.
"Hey, captain, another cup of coffee, will you? And a cigar." He tilted back in his chair and began to hum. And all the time his nerves were jumping, and that old frenzy was taking him by the throat, that bulldog eagerness for the fight. But fight emptyhanded and against Hal Dozier?
"Jud," said the old man with a strained tone, "It ain't my business to give warnin's to an officer of the law not mine. He'll find out little things like that for himself." For one moment Dozier remained looking from one face to the other. Then he shrugged his shoulders and went slowly up the ladder. It squeaked under his weight, he felt the rungs bow and tremble.
Hal Dozier would have been on the road five hours before if he had not been held up in the matter of horses, but this is to tell the story out of turn.
And then they came to the edge of the cliff, where the heel marks ended. "He walked straight over," said one of the men. "Think o' that!" "No," exclaimed Dozier, who was on his knees examining the marks, "he stood here a minute or so. First he shifted to one foot, and then he shifted his weight to the other. And his boots were turning in. Queer. I suppose his knees were buckling.
It was discovery undoubtedly and how long would that mental paralysis last? Andrew looked straight back into those eyes. His cigar took the fire and sucked in the flame. A cloud of smoke puffed out and rolled toward Hal Dozier, and Andrew turned leisurely and walked toward the door. He was a yard from it. "Lanning!" came a voice behind him, terrible, like a scream of pain.
The swift voice of the outlaw, with a fiber of earnest persuasion in it, went on: "You see what I risk to get you. Hal Dozier is on your trail. He's the only man in the world I'd think twice about before I met him face to face. But if I join to you, I'll have to meet him sooner or later. Well, Lanning, I'll take that risk.
Can you beat that for cold nerve, him figuring that he'd killed a man, and Bill Dozier and five more on his trail to bring him back to wait and see whether the buck he dropped lived or died and then to slide over and call on a lady? No, you can't raise that!" But the tidings were gradually breaking in upon the mind of Andrew Lanning.
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