And as it gathered about them, enveloping them in their own narrowing
circle of vision, Alan was thinking quickly. It had taken him only a
moment to accept the significance of the running figures his companion
had seen. Graham's men were near, had seen them, and were getting
between them and the range. Possibly it was a scouting party, and if
there were no more than five or six, the number which Mary had counted,
he was quite sure of the situation. But there might be a dozen or fifty
of them. It was possible Graham and Rossland were advancing upon the
range with their entire force. He had at no time tried to analyze just
what this force might be, except to assure himself that with the
overwhelming influence behind him, both political and financial, and
fired by a passion for Mary Standish that had revealed itself as little
short of madness, Graham would hesitate at no convention of law or
humanity to achieve his end. Probably he was playing the game so that he
would be shielded by the technicalities of the law, if it came to a
tragic end. His gunmen would undoubtedly be impelled to a certain extent
by an idea of authority. For Graham was an injured husband "rescuing"
his wife, while he--Alan Holt--was the woman's abductor and paramour,
and a fit subject to be shot upon sight!
His free hand gripped the butt of his pistol as he led the way straight
ahead.
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