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Updated: May 10, 2025
"If you haven't, I'm going to burn you out an' be damned to you!" He got an answer he little expected. For Hampton, running out into the open, now that he knew that Bud and Judith must be in the cabin, was firing as he came. Burkitt's rifle spoke with his. "Run for it, Shorty!" yelled Quinnion. "You know where. We're up against the Blue Lake boys." "Bud!" shouted Tommy. "Oh, Bud!"
And Bud Lee, seeing no better way ahead for them, blew out the candle, forced Judith to stand close to the rock chimney of the fireplace, took his station near her, and answered Quinnion, saying shortly: "Come ahead when you're ready. We're waiting." Quinnion's curse, the crack of his rifle, the flying splinters from the cabin door, came together like one implacable menace.
If you don't do it, I'll kill you just the same. You've got your chance. Count ten seconds, Sandy." "One," said Sandy, watching the clock on the wall, "two, three, four, five, six, seven " "Curse you!" cried Quinnion then, a look of fear at last in his eyes. "I'll get you for this some day, Bud Lee. Now you've got me " "Keep on counting, Sandy," commanded Lee. "Eight," said Sandy, "nine "
And, as she stooped, she heard a little whining moan just under her and straightened up, tense and terrified. Mad Ruth was there before her. Mad Ruth was waiting. And Quinnion was coming on. She was trapped, caught between the two of them. She heard Quinnion laugh again; he, too, had heard Ruth. "Oh, God help me!" whispered Judith. "God help me now!" There was no time to hesitate.
"I know who you are and what you are," she told him defiantly, suddenly sick of her long hours of playing baby, knowing at the moment less fear than hatred and loathing. "Listen to me: Bayne Trevors has come out in the open at last; he has made his big play and is going to lose out on it. Your one chance now is to let me go and to go yourself. Go fast and far, Chris Quinnion.
An' say, Billy, tell him what Quinnion had to say down to the Jailbird." Lee turned his eyes to Billy Young. Young, a cattleman from the Up and Down range, shifted his belt and looked uncomfortable. "Damn if I do!" he blurted out. "It ain't none of my funeral. An' if you ask me, I don't like the sound of that kind of talk in my mouth.
Black Steve, oily and perspiring behind his bar, caressed a heavy black mustache and looked at them out of cold, expressionless eyes. The first glance had shown Lee that Quinnion was not there. At least not in the main room, but there were the card-rooms at the rear.
But see if you can't get Crowdy to squeal. We're shy Shorty's real name, too, you know." To all questions put him, Bill Crowdy answered with stubborn denial of knowledge or not at all. He had been alone; he didn't know any man named Quinnion; he didn't know anything about Shorty. And he hadn't robbed Miller. That canvas bag, then, with the thousand dollars in it?
Lee did not hesitate now, but with one leap was across the room, avoiding the table, seeking to come to close quarters with Quinnion and have the thing over and done with. In the bitterness still gnawing at his heart, he told himself again that it would be no calamity to the world if the two men who had insulted Judith Sanford went down together. Again Steve fired.
His hat had struck Quinnion full in the face. Then Lee again sprang onward, again struck out with his clubbed revolver. The blow missed Quinnion's head but caught him heavily on the shoulder and sent him staggering back against the wall. Lee could hear the bulk of his body crashing against the boards. And again leaping, he struck the second time at Quinnion.
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