Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 24, 2025
The day of the gunman was past, but two such men as Pat and Waring would suppress by their mere presence in the country the petty rustling and law-breaking that had made Torrance's position difficult at times. "I'll see what I can do," said he. "About how much land?" "Ten or twenty thousand, to begin with." "There's some Government land not on the reservation between here and the railroad.
He had told her of the incident at the trestle, and the hatred now boiling in the breasts of the bohunks. But of the scene in Torrance's shack, of Sergeant Mahon, he had not said a word; he felt he dare not. That the Sergeant should be there oppressed and threatened him.
About forty miles an hour, with just a board and a tremendous sputter between you and the flying rails. It makes your hair curl, yet you look forward to the next time." Lightly as he spoke, he had risen to his feet and gone to the doorway. "Some of the big moguls of construction, I suppose," he shouted back above the echoing din. "Perhaps to pass on Torrance's trestle before the fill-in commences.
Blue Pete, alias Peter Maverick, alias anything that seemed to suit the varied occasions of his checkered career, thrust aside the curtain of foliage covering the hiding place of his new raft. There was no reason why he should visit the raft just then; he could have no possible use for it until he had in his hands those two horses up in Torrance's stable.
Even before the third bullet directed Torrance's amazed eyes upward, Conrad knew that Tressa and her father were in no danger. It was a fleeting glimpse of the horses disappearing among the trees that galvanised him into action.
When he returned to the front room the Indian was still there. "Any spare cartridges? I'm about cleaned out. Jes' two left. Gotta save them." Mahon dropped a dozen in the extended hand. The Indian worked with them in the darkness for a moment and slammed them on the table with a curse. "Shud 'a' knowed they wudn't fit. Where's Torrance's?"
Into its mouth she pressed the end of a rope, and it leaped far into the water. Torrance's left hand fumbled back within the door for his field-glasses. Through them he saw the dog emerge lower down, still holding the rope, and dash in long bounds up the bank. As the strain of the rope came, it sank back on its haunches.
Up above, men were holding it away from the trestle; a dozen more waiting to fasten it in place. It had risen twenty feet when a cry of warning burst from Torrance's lips. He scarcely knew why. His wandering eyes had fancied a sag in the support that held the pulley; his quick ear had caught a new note in the creaking timbers.
The mysterious arrivals and disappearances of the redskin as Torrance saw them was interesting enough, but they were as nothing to Mahon compared with his own failure to meet the Indian face to face. That was epitomised in the incident of the voice from the darkness over the trestle the night he rushed to Torrance's assistance.
He turned to Conrad with such a look of awe that the latter laughed. "All you need care," Conrad said, digging a finger into Torrance's chest, "is that he didn't wish to put it there." The contractor scratched his head. "That fellow sure can shoot . . . but it ain't half as queer as the way he didn't want to."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking