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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Rustlers of Pecos County"

The tramp of heavy boots
lent me the strength and speed of desperation. I was not shirking a
fight, but to be cornered like a trapped coyote was another matter. I
almost tore my clothes off in that passage. The dust nearly stifled me.
When I burst into the patio it was not one single instant too soon. But
one deep gash of breath revived me, and I was up, gun in hand, running
for the outlet into the court. Thumping footsteps turned me back. While
there was a chance to get away I did not want to meet odds in a fight. I
thought I heard some one running into the patio from the other end. I
stole along, and coming to a door, without any idea of where it might
lead, I softly pushed it open a little way and slipped in.


Chapter 9
IN FLAGRANTE DELICTO

A low cry greeted me. The room was light. I saw Sally Langdon sitting on
her bed in her dressing gown. Shaking my gun at her with a fierce
warning gesture to be silent, I turned to close the door. It was a heavy
door, without bolt or bar, and when I had shut it I felt safe only for
the moment. Then I gazed around the room. There was one window with
blind closely drawn. I listened and seemed to hear footsteps retreating,
dying away.


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