"Hunting Alcatraz after dark?" queried Little Joe.
There was no answer possible. The last glow of twilight was fading
to deep night. The trees on the edge of the clearing seemed to grow
taller and blacker each moment. Certainly if it were well-nigh
impossible to hunt the stallion effectively in daylight it was sheer
madness to hunt him at night. Every moment they waited in the cabin,
the certainty that Perris had left the valley grew greater. It showed
in their voices, for every man had spoken softly at first as though
for fear the spirit of the inhabitant of the shack might drift near
unseen and overhear. Now their words came loud, disturbing and
startling Hervey in the midst of his thoughts, as he continued
wandering about the cabin, lighting match after match, striving in
vain to find something which would reawaken his hopes. But there was
nothing of enough worth to induce Perris to return, and finally Hervey
gave up.
"We'll start on," he said at length. "You boys ride along. I'll give
the place another look."
As a matter of fact, he merely wished to be alone, and he was dimly
pleased as they sauntered off through the trees, their voices coming
more and more vaguely back to him, until the far-off rattle of
hoofs began.
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