A tardy squeal and another like an echo came from
the room which harboured Lew Yates's wife and mother-in-law. Perhaps
they had just come out from under the covers for air and squealed and
dived back again ... not being used to the customs obtaining in the
vicinity of Drury's road house as Poke himself had remarked.
Hap Smith was the first one of the men who had dashed outside to return.
He carried a mail bag in each hand, muddy and wet, having stumbled over
them in the wild chase. He dropped them to the floor and stared angrily
at them.
The bulky mail bag, save for the damp and mud, was untouched. The lean
bag however had been slit open. Hap Smith kicked it in a sudden access
of rage.
"There was ten thousan' dollars in there, in green backs," he said
heavily. "They trusted it to me an' Bert Stone to get across with it.
An' now ..."
His face was puckered with rage and shame. He went slowly to where Bert
Stone lay. His friend was white and unconscious ... perhaps already his
tale was told. Hap Smith looked from him to the girl who, her face as
white as Bert's, was trying to staunch the flow of blood.
"I said it," he muttered lugubriously; "the devil's own night."
CHAPTER III
BUCK THORNTON, MAN'S MAN
Those who had rushed into the outer darkness in the wake of the
highwayman returned presently.
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