Всадник без головы

Chapter 91

           Ateveryturningofthetrack,heappearstohavegaineddistance;untilatlengthhisfootfallceasestobeheard.

           "Cursethedamnedthing!"criesCalhoun,withagestureofchagrin."It’sgoingtoescapemeagain!Notsomuchmatter,iftherewerenobodyafteritbutmyself.Butthereisthistime.Thatoldhell-hound’scomingonthroughthethicket.IsawhimasIentereditnotthreehundredyardsbehindme.

           "Istherenochanceofshakinghimoff?No.He’stoogoodatrackerforthat.

           "ByGod!butthereisachance!"

           Attheprofaneutterance,thespeakerreinsup;wrencheshishorsehalfround;andscansthepathoverwhichhehasjustpassed.

           Heexaminesitwiththelookofonewhohasconceivedascheme,andisreconnoitringtheterrain,toseeifitwillsuit.

           Atthesametime,hisfingersclosenervouslyaroundhisrifle,whichhemanipulateswithafeverishimpatience.

           Stillisthereirresolutioninhislooks;andhehesitatesaboutthrowinghimselfintoafixedattitude.

           Onreflectiontheschemeisabandoned.

           "Itwon’tdo!"hemutters."There’stoomanyofthemfellowscomingaftersomethatcantrack,too?They’dfindhiscarcase,sure,maybeheartheshot?

           "Nono.Itwon’tdo!"

           Hestaysawhilelonger,listening.Thereisnosoundheardeitherbeforeorbehindonlythatoverheadmadebythesoftwavingofthevulturinewings.

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