Connie’s first impulse was to spur Silvertail into a gallop and try to ride by the holdup man. But an instant’s reflection convinced her that such a course would be sheer folly. He might coolly shoot her down.
“Hurry up and hand over that money!” the man commanded again.
Connie was certain she had heard the voice somewhere before. From the strained manner in which the man spoke she believed that he was disguising his normal tone.
“What money?” she asked, stalling for time.
“Don’t try to bluff,” retorted the man curtly. “I know you have it pinned inside your shirt pocket. Will you give it up or shall I take it?”
He urged his horse a pace closer. Connie slowly reached up as if to unpin the roll of money. But the thought of handing over her earnings was more than she could bear.
Suddenly, throwing caution to the wind, she spurred her horse. Silvertail lunged forward.
The holdup man laughed harshly as he seized the horse’s bridle bringing him up so sharply that Connie was nearly unseated.
“Oh, no you don’t!” he said.
Connie felt the cold muzzle of a revolver press against her side. Her determination to save the money at all cost ebbed quickly away. She reached up and unpinned the roll of money.