American fiction -- 20th century; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; Western stories
She shook her head. And he saw, wondering at her, that she was very
deeply in earnest as she admitted:
"No. Nothing! But I know. I tell you, I know. Can't you feel that there
is some one back there, following us, spying on us, hiding and yet
dogging every step we take? Can't you _feel_ it?"
She saw him shaken with silent laughter. She understood that he, a
man, was convulsed with laughter at the imaginings of her, a maid.
And yet, also, since she was quick-minded, she noted how his laughter
was _silent_! He meant her to see that he put no credence in her
suspicions; and yet, for all that, he was impressed, and he did take
care that no one, who _might_ follow them, should overhear him!
"One doesn't feel things like that," he told her, as though positive.
But in the telling he kept his voice low, so that it was scarcely
louder than her own whisper.
"One does," she retorted. "And you know it, Babe Deveril!"
"But," he challenged her, "were you right, and were there a man or
several men back there tracking us, why all this caution on their
parts? What would they be waiting for, being armed themselves and
knowing us unarmed? What better place than this to take us in? Why give
us a minute's chance to slip away in the brush?"
"I don't know." She shrugged, and again he marvelled at her; she looked
like one who had little vital concern in what any others, pursuing,
might or might not do.
Despite his cool determination to adhere to calm reason and to discount
feminine impressionism, which he held to be fostered by a nervous
condition brought about by overexertion, Babe Deveril began to feel,
as she felt, that there was something more than imagination in her
contention. How does a man sense things which no one of his five senses
can explain to him? He could not see any reason in this abrupt change
in both their moods; and yet, none the less, it seemed to him, all of a
sudden, as though eyes were spying on him from behind every pine trunk,
and from the screen of every thicket.
"Joe won't escape us in a hurry," he muttered. "Not in this cañon. And
we'll see this thing through. Let's sit tight and watch."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account