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Updated: May 28, 2025
Graney went directly to a hotel, to wash and breakfast, while Trevison, a little tired and hollow-eyed from loss of sleep and excitement, and with a two days' growth of beard on his face, which made him look worse than he actually felt, sought the livery stable where he had left Nigger the night before, mounted the animal and rode rapidly out of town toward the Diamond K. He took a trail that led through the cut where on another morning he had startled the laborers by riding down the wall Nigger eating up the ground with long, sure, swift strides passing Pat Carson and his men at a point on the level about a quarter of a mile beyond the cut.
The bullet hit the neck of the glass bowl, a trifle below the burner, the latter describing a parabola in the air and falling into the ruin of the bowl. The chimney crashed, the flame from the wick touched the oil and flared up brilliantly. Trevison was half way through the wall by the time the oil ignited, and he grinned coldly at the sight. Haste was important now.
"It's a cinch," Levins declared as they dismounted from their horses in the shelter of a shoulder of the butte, about a hundred yards from where the corrugated iron building, nearly complete, loomed somberly on the level. "But if they'd ever get evidence that we done it " Trevison laughed lowly, with a grim humor that made Levins look sharply at him.
And a rifle in the hands of a man with a yearning to use it would make that approach pretty unsafe, wouldn't it?" "My God!" moaned the Judge; "you talk like a man bereft of his senses!" "Or like a man who is determined not to be robbed of his rights," added Trevison. "Well, come along. We won't dwell on such things if they depress you." He took the Judge's arm and escorted him.
Trevison scowled, for he recognized them as Corrigan's deputies. But he was not surprised, for he had half expected them to be hanging around the building. Two figures stepped down from the door as he watched, and he knew them for Corrigan and Gieger. Corrigan's voice reached him. "The lock on this door is broken. I had to kick it in this morning. One of you stay inside, here.
An imposing figure Trevison certainly was. Horse and rider were outlined against the sky, and in the dear light every muscle and feature of man and beast stood but boldly and distinctly. The big black horse was a powerful brute, tall and rangy, with speed and courage showing plainly in contour, nostril and eye; and with head and ears erect he stood motionless, statuesque, heroic.
When a thing like that happens there's always somebody around to see it, and if I can get evidence against you I'll send you up for it!" He noted a slight quickening of Trevison's eyes at his mention of a witness, and a fierce exultation leaped within him. Trevison laughed, looking the other fairly between the eyes. Rosalind Benham hadn't informed on him. However, the day was not yet gone.
Mebbe in an hour." Rosalind went out upon the platform. The agent's words had revived a horror that she had almost forgotten that she wanted to forget the murder of Braman. She walked to the edge of the station platform, tortured by thoughts in which she could find no excuse for Trevison. Murderer and robber! A fugitive from justice the very justice he had been demanding!
He was just such a man as Trevison reckless, impulsive, and impetuous dare-devil who would not tolerate injustice or oppression. They wouldn't let me have him, my dear, and I never would have another man. He went away, joined the army, and was killed at the battle of Kenesaw Mountain.
She studied the profile of the man and compared its reposeful strength with that of the man who had ridden with her many times since her coming to Blakeley's. The turbulent spirit of Trevison awed her now, frightened her she feared for his future. But she pitied him; the sympathy that gripped her made icy shivers run over her.
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