It was agreed they should divide
and slip quietly back to town, wait until everything was quiet and convene
again. Meanwhile Eaton would make arrangements to see that his offices
would be sufficiently guarded for protection against any attack.
Yesler walked back to town and was within a couple of blocks of his hotel
when he glimpsed two figures crouching against the fence of the alley. He
stopped in his tracks, watched them intently an instant, and was startled
by a whistle from the rear. He knew at once his retreat, too, was cut off,
and without hesitation vaulted the fence in front of a big gray stone house
he was passing. A revolver flashed from the alley, and he laughed with a
strange kind of delight. His thought was to escape round the house, but
trellis work barred the way, and he could not open the gate.
"Trapped, by Jove," he told himself coolly as a bullet struck the trellis
close to his head.
He turned back, ran up the steps of the porch and found momentary safety in
the darkness of its heavy vines. But this he knew could not last. Running
figures were converging toward him at a focal point.
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