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Updated: June 22, 2025
It was a peculiar movement in its quickness and inasmuch that while performing it the rider did not swerve in the slightest from a square front to the group before him. "Look!" hoarsely whispered one of Tull's companions. "He packs two black-butted guns low down they're hard to see black akin them black chaps." "A gun-man!" whispered another. "Fellers, careful now about movin' your hands."
Lassiter reached it, searched along the base, and, finding a low place, dragged the weary horse up and over round, smooth stone. Looking backward, Jane saw Tull's white horse not a mile distant, with riders strung out in a long line behind him. Looking forward, she saw more valley to the right, and to the left a towering cliff. Lassiter pulled the horse and kept on.
More restless movements on the part of Tull's men broke up the little circle, exposing the prisoner Venters. "Mebbe I've kind of hindered somethin' for a few moments, perhaps?" inquired the rider. "Yes," replied Jane Withersteen, with a throb in her voice. She felt the drawing power of his eyes; and then she saw him look at the bound Venters, and at the men who held him, and their leader.
It was based in part upon Tull's book, but contained many reflections suggested by French experience as well as some additions made by the English translator. The English translation appeared in 1759, the year of Washington's marriage.
There was the night ride of Tull's, which, viewed in the light of subsequent events, had a look of his covert machinations; Oldring and his Masked Rider and his rustlers riding muffled horses; the report that Tull had ridden out that morning with his man Jerry on the trail to Glaze, the strange disappearance of Jane Withersteen's riders, the unusually determined attempt to kill the one Gentile still in her employ, an intention frustrated, no doubt, only by Judkin's magnificent riding of her racer, and lastly the driving of the red herd.
It was a prayer, as if forth from those lonely purple reaches and walls of red and clefts of blue might ride a fearless man, neither creed-bound nor creed-mad, who would hold up a restraining hand in the faces of her ruthless people. The restless movements of Tull's men suddenly quieted down. Then followed a low whisper, a rustle, a sharp exclamation. "Look!" said one, pointing to the west.
Those who have good light ploughing sandy, or sandy loam soils, will find it answer their most sanguine expectations, in turnips of any sort, and particularly in the cultivation of Swedish turnips. Of course, I only address myself to those farmers who superintend the whole progress of drilling, transplanting, hoeing and ploughing; for Tull's is not a system to answer if trusted to servants.
By what monstrous abortion of fate did these abide in the shadow of Dyer? Venters rode on and stopped before Tull's cottage. Women stared at him with white faces and then flew from the porch. Tull himself appeared at the door, bent low, craning his neck. His dark face flashed out of sight; the door banged; a heavy bar dropped with a hollow sound.
I know," went on Venters, tauntingly, "it galls you, the idea of beautiful Jane Withersteen being friendly to a poor Gentile. You want her all yourself. You're a wiving Mormon. You have use for her and Withersteen House and Amber Spring and seven thousand head of cattle!" Tull's hard jaw protruded, and rioting blood corded the veins of his neck. "Once more. Will you go?"
When Venters had turned into a long aisle he had time to look up at Tull's riders. They were now strung out into an extended line riding northeast. And, as Venters and Bess were holding due north, this meant, if the horses of Tull and his riders had the speed and the staying power, they would head the blacks and turn them back down the slope.
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