I had seen red flashes, puffs of smoke, had
heard quick reports. Something stung my left arm. Then a blow like wind,
light of sound yet shocking in impact, struck me, knocked me flat. The
hot rend of lead followed the blow. My heart seemed to explode, yet my
mind kept extraordinarily clear and rapid.
I raised myself, felt a post at my shoulder, leaned on it. I heard
Sampson work the action of Wright's gun. I heard the hammer click, fall
upon empty shells. He had used up all the loads in Wright's gun. I heard
him curse as a man cursed at defeat. I waited, cool and sure now, for
him to show his head or other vital part from behind his bolster. He
tried to lift the dead man, to edge him closer toward the table where
the gun lay. But, considering the peril of exposing himself, he found
the task beyond him. He bent, peering at me under Wright's arm.
Sampson's eyes were the eyes of a man who meant to kill me. There was
never any mistaking the strange and terrible light of eyes like those.
More than once I had a chance to aim at them, at the top of Sampson's
head, at a strip of his side. But I had only two shells left. I wanted
to make sure. Suddenly I remembered Morton and his man.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305