"
The candle guttered wildly on the floor. It had burnt almost to the wood
and now the remnant of the wick stood in a little sprawling pool of
grease white at the outer edges.
Bard yawned, and patted idly the blanket where it touched on the shape
of the revolver beneath. In another moment that candle would gutter out
and they would be left in darkness.
He said: "That's the best yarn I've heard in a good many days; it's
enough to make any one sleepy--so here goes."
And he turned deliberately on his side.
Nash, his eyes staring with incredulity, sat up slowly among his
blankets and his hand stole up toward the noose of the lariat. A light
snore reached him, hardly a snore so much as the heavy intake of breath
of a very weary, sleeping man; yet the hand of Nash froze on the lariat.
"By God," he whispered faintly to himself, "he ain't asleep!"
And the candle flared wildly, leaped, and shook out.
CHAPTER XXI
THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK
Over the face of Nash the darkness passed like a cold hand and a colder
sense of failure touched his heart; but men who have ridden the range
have one great power surpassing all others--the power of patience.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184