Then he seemed to
expand. His huge bulk jerked into motion and he bellowed like a mad bull.
Slone saw the blow coming, made no move to avoid it. The big fist took him
square on the mouth and chin and laid him flat on the ground. Sight failed
Slone for a little, and likewise ability to move. But he did not lose
consciousness. His head seemed to have been burst into rays and red mist that
blurred his eyes. Then these cleared away, leaving intense pain. He started to
get up, his brain in a whirl. Where was his gun? He had left it at home. But
for that he would have killed Bostil. He had already killed one man. The thing
was a burning flash--then all over! He could do it again. But Bostil was
Lucy's father!
Slone gathered up the packages of supplies, and without looking at the men he
hurried away. He seemed possessed of a fury to turn and run back. Some force,
like an invisible hand, withheld him. When he reached the cabin he shut
himself in, and lay on his bunk, forgetting that the place did not belong to
him, alive only to the mystery of his trouble, smarting with the shame of the
assault upon him.
Pages:
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394