Page:The Black Cat v01no01 (1895-10).pdf/5

Rh Bill tossed his cigar into the tules, and hurried the horses into effort as the interest of his reminiscence swept him on.

"The girl carried herself after the fashion of high steppers, and neither fellow could swear where he stood. It was laughter and spirit for both of them, they said, and nip and tuck for the yielding. The pace was the sort that exhausts men, and Shorty's brain for lawyering cooked up a scheme for his rescue. He was for their going together some night before her, and, after a formal marriage proposal, each argue his claim and fitness for ten minutes by the clock, their honor at stake to stand by her decision.

"It got about afterwards that Emory wouldn't consent till he saw the devil to pay in Shorty's earnestness, and they swore with their fists in each other's to carry the thing through to the finish. The date and hour were arranged for the following Sunday night at eight, and they drank to it with gall in the cup.

"When the evening came the clock had already struck eight when Stokes reached the Blanchard house.

"The lights from the room fell over the porch, and from the shadow of the steps he saw the something that in all the world he couldn't bear to see,—Emory crossing the room to take Grace Blanchard in his arms; Emory with passion paling his face and Grace Blanchard in the beauty of a disturbing humility.

"He cursed as he watched them cling to each other, and he cursed his way back to the saloons and his Mariposa mining.

"The next day he turned up again in the settlement, with liquor enough aboard to put a wheel in his head, and, after a losing fling at the tables, he started to find Emory.

"After a little ineffectual riding, he leaped from the back of his vicious-eyed piebald at the corner that bulged thickest with saloons, and stood close to the stirrup with his hand on his hip. Some one who noticed him said his face had the steely intensity of a razor edge.

"Then out of the crowd, unconscious, with the music of love in his heart, swung Ned Emory. His hat was pushed back on his fair hair, and he was whistling the overflow out of his veins.

"In one instant a bullet rang through the air, followed by another. Eniory fell in his own blood, and a horseman was riding off wildly and safe through the shower of bullets that rained