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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Wait a moment, Sassoon. Where are you going?" she demanded. Sassoon hitched with one hand at his trousers band. He inclined his head sulkily toward his companion. "Starting a man on the trail for Sleepy Cat." "Stop," she exclaimed sharply, for de Spain, pushing his own horse ahead, had managed without being observed, to kick Sassoon's horse in the flank, and the two were passing.
Bob Scott, who knew the recess well, repeated his explicit directions as to how de Spain was to reach Sassoon's shack. He repeated his description of its interior, told him where the bed stood, and even where Sassoon ordinarily kept his knife and his revolver.
Lefever asked gingerly about the fight. He made no mention whatever of the crimson pool in the road near Sassoon's hut. The house in the Gap that had sheltered Nan for many years seemed never so empty as the night she left it with de Spain. In spite of his vacillation, her uncle was deeply attached to her. She made his home for him.
He is a prisoner, wanted for cutting up one of our stage-guards." Nan, coldly sceptical, eyed de Spain. "And do you try to tell me" she pointed to Sassoon's unbound hands "that he is riding out of here, a free man, to go to jail?" "I do tell you exactly that. He is my prisoner " "I don't believe either of you," declared Nan scornfully. "You are planning something underhand together."
It was, however, increasingly unsteady, and after a time it reached a condition that led Scott to declare de Spain was no longer guiding Sassoon's pony; it was wandering at will. Confirmation, if it were needed, of the declaration could soon be read in the trail by all of them. The horse, unrestrained by its rider, had come almost completely about and headed again for Music Mountain.
Nevertheless, the news of the appearance of Sassoon's captor spread. The two sauntered into the billiard-hall, which occupied a deep room adjoining the office and opened with large plate-glass windows on Main Street. Every table was in use.
The bullet shook without stopping his enemy, and de Spain, partly caught under Sandusky's body, thought, as Sassoon came on, the game was up. With an effort born of desperation, he dragged himself from under the twitching giant, freed his revolver, rolled away, and, with his sight swimming, swung the gun at Sassoon's stomach. He meant to kill him.
There seemed, suddenly, a great many chances for a slip in the programme. De Spain coughed slightly, his eyes meantime boring the darkness to the left, where Sassoon's bed should be. The utmost scrutiny failed to disclose any sign of it or any sound of breathing from that corner.
They had not underestimated the danger from Sassoon's suspicious malevolence. He returned next morning to read what further he could among the rocks. It was little, but it spelled a meeting of two people Nan and another and he was stimulated to keep his eyes and ears open for further discoveries.
"Is there anything moving on the ridge over there see just east of Sassoon's ranch-house?" De Spain, his eyes bent on the point Nan indicated, drew her forward to a dip in the trail which, to one stretched flat, afforded a slight protection.
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