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Updated: May 22, 2025
The Bishop did as he was told, and Jack Bracken led the way down a rocky gulch under the shaggy sides of Sand Mountain, furzed with scraggy trees and thick with underbrush and weeds. It was a tortuous path and one in which the old man himself, knowing, as he thought he did, every foot of the country around, could easily have been lost.
"It was some chase, Jim, was n't it?" he said, without looking at his old-time enemy. Blake stared down at him with his haggard hound's eyes; there was no answering smile on his heavy lips, now furzed with their grizzled growth of hair. There seemed something ignominious in such an end, something futile and self-frustrating. It was unjust. It left everything so hideously incomplete.
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