He had thrust his revolver
into its holster and now again for an instant he held Meleese close
in his arms.
"You will be my wife?" he whispered.
He felt her throbbing against him. Suddenly her arms tightened around
his neck.
"Yes, if you want me then--if you want me after you know what I am. Now,
go--please, please go!"
He pulled himself through the window, hanging for a last moment to the
ledge.
"If you fail to come--within a month--I shall return," he said.
Her hands were at his face again. Once more, as on the trail at Le Pas,
he felt the sweet pressure of her lips.
"I will come," she whispered.
Her hands thrust him back and he was forced to drop to the snow below.
Scarcely had his feet touched when there sounded the fierce yelp of a
dog close to him, and as he darted away into the smother of the storm
the brute followed at his heels, barking excitedly in the manner of the
mongrel curs that had found their way up from the South. Between the
dog's alarm and the loud outcry of men there was barely time in which to
draw a breath. From the stair platform came a rapid fusillade of rifle
shots that sang through the air above Howland's head, and mingled with
the fire was a hoarse voice urging on the cur that followed within a
leap of his heels.
Pages:
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198