In a
moment more Ramona followed,-- only a moment, hardly a
moment; but when she reached the threshold, it was to hear a
gun-shot, to see Alessandro fall to the ground, to see, in the same
second, a ruffianly man leap from his horse, and standing over
Alessandro's body, fire his pistol again, once, twice, into the
forehead, cheek. Then with a volley of oaths, each word of which
seemed to Ramona's reeling senses to fill the air with a sound like
thunder, he untied the black horse from the post where Ramona
had fastened him, and leaping into his saddle again, galloped
away, leading the horse. As he rode away, he shook his fist at
Ramona, who was kneeling on the ground, striving to lift
Alessandro's head, and to stanch the blood flowing from the
ghastly wounds. "That'll teach you damned Indians to leave off
stealing our horses!" he cried, and with another volley of terrible
oaths was out of sight.
With a calmness which was more dreadful than any wild outcry of
grief, Ramona sat on the ground by Alessandro's body, and held his
hands in hers. There was nothing to be done for him.
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