He shook his head
angrily.
"It's just as well," he thought. "She's not for me."
Something moved upon the ground beyond the window.
Bridge became suddenly intent upon the thing. He saw it rise
and resolve itself into the figure of a man, and then, in a low
whisper, came a familiar voice:
"There ain't no roses in my hair, but there's a barker in my
shirt, an' another at me side. Here's one of 'em. They got
kisses beat a city block. How's the door o' this thing fastened?"
The speaker was quite close to the window now, his
face but a few inches from Bridge's.
"Billy!" ejaculated the condemned man.
"Surest thing you know; but about the door?"
"Just a heavy bar on the outside," replied Bridge.
"Easy," commented Billy, relieved. "Get ready to beat it
when I open the door. I got a pony south o' town that'll have
to carry double for a little way tonight."
"God bless you, Billy!" whispered Bridge, fervently.
"Lay low a few minutes," said Billy, and moved away
toward the rear of the guardhouse.
A few minutes later there broke upon the night air the
dismal hoot of an owl. At intervals of a few seconds it was
repeated twice. The sentry before the guardhouse shifted his
position and looked about, then he settled back, transferring
his weight to the other foot, and resumed his bovine meditations.
Pages:
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448