It was the signal for a leaden rain that began to spatter the rocks about him. It was now only a question of time. He knew it. But till that time came he replied to the fire. He was aiming into the heart of a puff of smoke when the death he had gambled so recklessly with these many years claimed the stakes.
He turned slightly sideways as his head collapsed on his outstretched arm, and through the grime and powder smoke, in the rich evening lights, his face showed with its hard lines all sponged out.
Sliver, the outlaw, gambler, drunkard, horse-thief, turned up to the low sun the quiet, peaceful face his mother had looked down upon as a child.
[XLI: JAKE BETTERS THE “EXCHANGE”]
By the time Jake caught up with the others that inner humane being, whose occasional appearances caused him so much disconcertion, had withdrawn within his usual cynical shell. His face, when Lee inquired for Sliver, expressed surprise that she should have thought it worth while to inquire.
“Him? Oh, he’s back there a-holding ’em off while we gain a spell.”
Though delivered with masterly unconcern, his explanation did not altogether relieve her anxiety. “But—how will he find us again?”
Jake’s shrug was fine in its indifference. “He’ll play a lone han’, Missy; plug straight for the border. Being alone that-a-way, he’ll likely beat us to it.”
“You really think so?”
“He’ll be there to meet us.”