And the outlaw, filled with gladness and pride, threw himself on the floor beside her.
VII
The signal pistol-shots came nearer and nearer, but very slowly; and as the outlaw sat beside Alice’s couch he took her Bible from his pocket and said:
“I made a stab at reading this last night.”
She smiled. “I saw you. How did you like it?”
“I didn’t exactly get aboard someway.”
“What was the trouble?”
“I guess it was because I kept thinking of you—and my own place in the game. Three days ago I didn’t care what became of me, but now I want a chance. I don’t see any chance coming my way, but if I had I’d make use of it.” He looked at her a moment in silence, then with sudden intensity broke forth. “Do you know what you mean to me? When I look at your face and eyes I’m hungry for you.”
She shrank from him and called to Mrs. Adams.
He went on. “Oh, you needn’t be afraid. I just wanted to say it, that’s all. If there was only some other way to straighten myself—but I can’t go to jail. I can’t stand up to be clipped like a poodle-dog, then put on striped clothing and walk lock-step—I can’t do it! They’ll put me in for ten years. I’d be old when I got out.” He shuddered. “No, I won’t do that! I’d rather die here in the hills.”