"Regular rabbit, ain't he?" chuckled the sheriff, and back they
went to the trail again on which two hundred yards below the Pine
they saw the tracks pointing again to Lonesome Cove.
On down the trail they went, and at the top of the spur that
overlooked Lonesome Cove, the Falin sheriff pulled in suddenly and
got off his horse. There the tracks swerved again into the bushes.
"He's goin' to wait till daylight, fer fear somebody's follered
him. He'll come in back o' Devil Judd's."
"How do you know he's going to Devil Judd's?" asked Hale.
"Whar else would he go?" asked the Falin with a sweep of his arm
toward the moonlit wilderness. "Thar ain't but one house that way
fer ten miles--and nobody lives thar."
"How do you know that he's going to any house?" asked Hale
impatiently. "He may be getting out of the mountains."
"D'you ever know a feller to leave these mountains jus' because
he'd killed a man? How'd you foller him at night? How'd you ever
ketch him with his start? What'd he turn that way fer, if he
wasn't goin' to Judd's--why d'n't he keep on down the river? If
he's gone, he's gone.
Pages:
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331