That
he owed this symbol either regard or honor did not for an instant
possess Alan. A murderer held it, a man even more vile than a murderer
if such a creature existed on earth, and for such a man death was a
righteous end. Only Rossland's nerve, and what he might have to say,
held back the vengeance within reach of Alan's hand.
He waited, and Rossland again advanced and did not stop until he was
within a hundred feet of the cabin. A sudden disturbing thought flashed
upon Alan as he heard his name called. He had seen no other figures, no
other shadows beyond Rossland, and the burning cabin now clearly
illumined the windows of Sokwenna's place. Was it conceivable that
Rossland was merely a lure, and the instant he exposed himself in a
parley a score of hidden rifles would reveal their treachery? He
shuddered and held himself below the opening of the window. Graham and
his men were more than capable of such a crime.
Rossland's voice rose above the crackle and roar of the burning cabin.
"Alan Holt! Are you there?"
"Yes, I am here," shouted Alan, "and I have a line on your heart,
Rossland, and my finger is on the trigger. What do you want?"
There was a moment of silence, as if the thought of what he was facing
had at last stricken Rossland dumb. Then he said: "We are giving you a
last chance, Holt.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305