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Updated: May 22, 2025
The wild blue eyes stared up at Lennon in bewildered lack of recognition. "Why why, you're not my papa!" she cried. "Of course not, Blossom. I'm Jack Brother Jack. Don't you know me?" The girl shrank back. "You're not my brother. Let me go. I haven't any brother. I never saw you before." "Oh, Blossom!" came a cry beside them. Lennon's glance darted aslant.
You must get her away before Slade's men But first find me my little pistol. I gave it to Blossom to use if there was no other way left. Leave it with me, and hurry off with her while there's time. Hurry!" Lennon's clasp tightened. "No. I'll never leave you never while " From the inner rooms of the cliff house came a burst of piercing childish shrieks.
Yet Lennon's hot impulse to interpose was checked and cooled when he thought to look at Carmena. Like her father, she was smiling at Slade and at the same time covertly watching Cochise. The handsome face of the young Apache seemed utterly blank of all expression except gluttonish enjoyment of the food he was wolfing.
"Minute I turned my back you'd pot me." "No," pledged Lennon. "I give you my word." Slade continued to scowl with surly suspicion. "Guess we'll take a look first. Git a move on you. Pile in. No time to hoist the hosses." He swung from his saddle, with Lennon's rifle in one hand and his own in the other. Both cartridge belts were buckled about his massive body.
Carmena swung in the crane and freed the rope the moment Lennon eased off. Slade was wheezing as if almost suffocated. At Carmena's urging, Lennon helped her drag the stupefied man back into the living room. The girl ran to fetch a bowl of water. "Loosen your clothes," she whispered in Lennon's ear. "Hide your moccasins look as if you'd just jumped out of bed get your arm back in the sling.
Lennon had to crook his right elbow through the rungs to get any use of his injured arm. But the riders racing swiftly across the head of the valley would soon be within short rifle range. Lennon's left hand was only a few rungs below Carmena's boot heels all the way up the ladder. At the top the girl pulled herself in over the worn stone sill of a massive-walled doorway.
But the utter limpness of the body under him stayed his hand from a second blow. He thrust the revolver back into his pocket and grasped Slade under the armpits. The body remained flaccid even when dragged out of the passage. Lennon struck a match and bent low over the ghastly face of the man he had felled. The scoundrel was only stunned. Lennon's look of anxiety gave place to a stern smile.
"How about it?" he demanded. "You said you'd back me up. How do I know I can count on you not knifing me?" "You have my word," replied Lennon, striving hard to repress his eagerness. The irregular firing up the valley became more rapid. Slade scowled and thrust out Lennon's high-power rifle. "It's a go that new deal. Take your belt, too.
Lennon's parry of the knife stab was sheer luck, but not the blow that he drove to the solar plexus. Superb as was the physical condition of the young Apache, that solid jolt sent him reeling back, gasping for breath. Lennon closed and sought to wrest away the knife. He twisted down on the Apache's wrist. The knife fell to the floor. He bent to grasp it.
Midway out across the desolate Basin, from the top of a craggy hill to the right of the line of Triple Butte, puffs of smoke were rising into the cloudless steel-blue sky. The girl hastened to loosen her pony's pack and take from her saddlebags a frying pan, several slices of bacon, and a big chunk of corn pone. The bacon was ready almost as soon as Lennon's rifle.
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