Then it was
better. The quivering of the two hands counteracted each other and he
managed to keep some sort of a bead.
Now the step continued again, down the short hall. A hand fell on the
knob of the door and pressed it slowly open. Against the deeper
blackness of the hall beyond, Buck saw a tall figure, hatless. His
finger curved about the trigger, and still he did not fire. Even to his
hysterical brain it occurred that Dan Barry would be wearing a hat--and
moreover the form was tall.
"Buck!" called a guarded voice.
The muzzle of Daniels' revolver dropped; he threw the gun on his bed and
stood up.
"Jim Rafferty!" he cried, with something like a groan in his voice.
"What in the name of God are you doin' here at this hour?"
"Someone come here and banged on the door a while ago. Had a letter for
you. Must have rid a long ways and come fast; while he was givin' me
the letter at the door I heard his hoss pantin' outside. He wouldn't
stay, but went right back. Here's the letter, Buck. Hope it ain't no bad
news. Got a light here, ain't you?"
"All right, Jim," answered Buck Daniels, taking the letter. "I got a
lantern. You get back to bed."
The other replied with a noisy yawn and left the room while Buck kindled
the lantern. By that light he read his name upon the envelope and tore
it open. It was very brief.
"Dear Buck,
Last night at supper Dan found out where
you are.
Pages:
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250