[pg 172]
"Hush!" said Banion sternly. "Not another word!"
"Figure on what it means to you." He turned to Woodhull. "I know what it means to me. I've got to have my own last chance, Woodhull, and I'm saving you for that only. Is your last chance now as good as mine? This isn't mercy--I'm trading now. You know what I mean."
Woodhull had freed his face of the mud as well as he could. He walked away, stooped at a trickle of water to wash himself. Jackson quietly rose and kicked the shotgun back farther from the edge. Woodhull now was near to Banion's horse, which, after his fashion, always came and stood close to his master. The butts of the two dragoon revolvers showed in their holsters at the saddle. When he rose from the muddy margin, shaking his hands as to dry them, he walked toward the horse. With a sudden leap, without a word, he sprang beyond the horse, with a swift clutch at both revolvers, all done with a catlike quickness not to have been predicted. He stood clear of the plunging horse, both weapons leveled, covering his two rescuers.
"Evener now!" His teeth bared. "Promise me!"
Jackson's deep curse was his answer. Banion rose, his arms folded.
"You're a liar and a coward, Sam!" said he. "Shoot, if you've got the nerve!"
Incredible, yet the man was a natural murderer. His eye narrowed. There came a swift motion, a double empty click!
[pg 173]