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Galloway cleared his throat. Rickard's eyes went to him swiftly. Then he got to his feet, jerked a thirty-eight-caliber revolver from the hip pocket of his overalls and held it out, surrendering it reluctantly. Norton "broke" it, ejecting the cartridges into his palm. Not an empty shell among them; the Kid had slipped in a fresh shell for every exploded one. "How many times did you shoot?"
Hope returned for a few days late in August. Invitations were just issued for the harvest dance at Rickard's. 'You mus' take 'er, said Uncle Eb, the day she came. 'She's a purty dancer as a man ever see. Prance right up an' tell 'er she mus' go. Don' want 'O let anyone git ahead O' ye.
As we came near Rickard's Hall we could hear the fiddles and the calling off. The windows on the long sides of the big house were open. Long shafts of light shot out upon the gloom. It had always reminded me of a picture of Noah's ark that hung in my bedroom and now it seemed to be floating, with resting oars of gold, in a deluge of darkness. We were greeted with a noisy welcome, at the door.
"Bad luck cursing a dead man, Rickard," said Norton coldly. "What did you kill him for?" Kid Rickard's tongue ran back and forth between his colorless lips before he replied. "He tried to get me first," he said defiantly. "Who saw the shooting?" "Jim Galloway. And Antone." Rod Norton grunted his disgust with the situation. "Give me your gun," he commanded tersely. The Kid frowned.
But after Kid Rickard's jarring mirth it was strangely still in the Casa Blanca; no noise of clicking chips bespeaking a poker game, no loud-voiced babble, no sound of a man walking across the bare floor. "They're waiting for me," was Norton's quick thought. "Galloway knew I'd come." He passed on, came to the second window and paused again.
Norton promptly instructed Tom Cutter to find out what he could of Rickard's movements upon the day of the robbery, and himself set out to bring in Vidal Nuñez, taking a grim joy in his task when he remembered how Nuñez had been the man who, with a glance, had cautioned Antone to hold his tongue after the shooting of Bisbee at the Casa Blanca.
At the door some other boys tried 'to cut me out'. I came through the noisy crowd, however, with Hope on my arm and my heart full of a great happiness. 'Did you like it? she asked. 'Very much, I answered. 'What did you enjoy most? 'Your company, I said, with a fine air of gallantry. 'Honestly? 'Honestly. I want to take you to Rickard's sometime? That was indeed a long cherished hope.
A gun in Galloway's hand, one in the hand of Vidal Nuñez, the third already spitting fire as Kid Rickard's narrowed eyes shone above it. The Kid, being young, had something of youth's impatience, perhaps the only reminiscence of youth left in a calloused soul. So it was that he had shot a second too soon.
Bagwell waiting at the office after dinner, away she and I to a cabaret where she and I have eat before, and there I had her company 'tout' and had 'mon plaisir' of 'elle'. But strange to see how a woman, notwithstanding her greatest pretences of love 'a son mari' and religion, may be 'vaincue'. Thence to the Court of the Turkey Company at Sir Andrew Rickard's to treat about carrying some men of ours to Tangier, and had there a very civil reception, though a denial of the thing as not practicable with them, and I think so too.
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