Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: April 30, 2025
Johnson's gun leaped forward, blazing; his left hand slapped back along the barrel, once, twice; pivoting, his gun turned to meet Bill, almost upon him, hands outstretched. Bill recoiled; Pete stepped aside a pace all this at once. The Texan dropped his empty gun and turned. "You win," said Pete gently. Not understanding yet, triumph faded from the Texan's eyes at that gentle tone.
His own guilty conscience told him that what The Kid said was true. His gimlet eyes grew big with fear. There was a long silence. "If if I sign, yo'll let me go?" he quavered. The Texan's face grew hard and stern. "No," he said. "I haven't any right to do that. Justice demands that yo' face the ones yo' have wronged. And justice has always been my guidin' stah.
Steve Stacy was whirling about desperately to meet him. Once again The Kid was involved in a showdown to the bitter finish! Kid Wolf's left-hand Colt sputtered from his hip. He had no more mercy for Stacy than he would have had for a rattlesnake that had bitten a friend. Br-r-rang-bang! Spat-spat! Stacy, hit twice, still blazed away. A bullet ripped through the Texan's sleeve. Again he fired.
Swiftly a hand whose palm concealed an open jack-knife slipped beneath the Texan's right stirrup-leather and a moment later was withdrawn as the cayuse, suspicious of the fumbling on the wrong side of the saddle, snorted nervously and sheered sharply against another horse which with an angry squeal, a laying back of the ears, and a vicious snap of the teeth, resented the intrusion.
The blade would have buried itself in the Texan's thigh had not The Kid whirled his horse just in time. "All right," said the Texan coolly. "We have it out with ouah hands." Holstering his guns, he leaped from his horse. He scorned even to use his bowie knife, as he advanced toward the bandit at a half crouch. The Terror thought he had the advantage. The Kid's hands were bare of any weapons.
Sherman soon divines the difficulty of fathoming the Texan's real designs. Hood is familiar with the ground. Drawing back to the lines of Atlanta, Hood crouches for a desperate spring. The ridges of the red clay hills, with little valleys running to the Chattahoochee in the west, and Ocmulgee in the east, cover his manoeuvres.
If we strike far enough to the west, we may be able to flank the troops spread out to keep us away from the river. Best plan for now, anyway. And the more men we can pick up, the better." "Scattered some, ain't we?" Kirby assented. "You give the orders, Cap'n, suh. We ain't licked complete yet." There was a low growl arising from the company on the pike as the Texan's comment reached them.
He booted Hannibal into the rocking gallop the big mule was capable of upon occasion, and pulled the bay along. Kirby was clinging to the horn, his language heated as he alternately ordered or tried to abuse Drew into leaving him. The Texan's plight had applied any spur the pursuers might have needed.
What I mean is," he hastened to add, catching a glance from the Texan's eye, "don't be afraid to ask fer soap or towels if there hain't none in yer room, an' if yer cold holler fer an extry blanket er two. The State's a-payin' fer it, an' yer board, too, an' if they don't fill you up every meal you set up a yell an' I'll see 't they do."
Had the Comanche known how matters stood, a quick upward flirt on his part, even though the hold was slight, would have flung the door flat on the roof and opened the way to the interior of the Texan's cabin. But not knowing nor suspecting anything of the kind, he did not make the attempt.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking