His sleek smile arrested her.He was standing with his feet apart, his hands clasped lightly behind his back, as natty and as well groomed as was his wont.
"Ah, make the most of what ye yet may spend, Before ye, too, into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!"he misquoted, with a sneer; and immediately interrupted his irony to give way to one of his sudden blind rages.
With incredible swiftness his right hand moved forward and up, catching revolver from scabbard as it rose.But by a fraction of a second his purpose had been anticipated.A closed fist shot forward to the salient jaw in time to fling the bullets into the ceiling.An arm encircled theoutlaw's neck, and flung him backward down the stairs.The railing broke his fall, and on it his body slid downward, the weapon falling from his hand.He pulled himself together at the foot of the stairs, crouched for an upward rush, but changed his mind instantly.The young officer who had flung him down had him covered with his own six-shooter.He could hear footsteps running toward him, and he knew that in a few seconds he would be in the hands of the soldiers.Plunging out of the doorway, the desperado vaulted to the saddle and drove his spurs home.For a minute hoofs pounded on the hard, white road.Then the night swallowed him and the echo of his disappearance.
"That was Bannister of the Shoshones and the Tetons," the girl's white lips pronounced to Lieutenant Beecher.
"And I let him get away from me," the disappointed lad groaned."Why, I had him right in my hands.I could have throttled him as easy.But how was I to know he would have nerve enough to come rushing into a hotel full of soldiers hunting him?""Y'u have a very persistent cousin, Mr.Bannister," said McWilliams, coming forward from the alcove with shining eyes."And I must say he's game.Did y'u ever hear the like? Come butting in here as cool as if he hadn't a thing to do but sing out orders like he was in his own home.He was that easy.""It seems to me that a little of the praise is due Lieutenant Beecher.If he hadn't dealt so competently with the situation murder would have been done.Did you learn your boxing at the Academy, Lieutenant?" Helen asked, trying to treat the situation lightly in spite of her hammering heart.
"I was the champion middleweight of our class," Beecher could not help saying boyishly, with another of his blushes.
"I can easily believe it," returned Helen.
"I wish y'u would teach me how to double up a man so prompt and immediate," said the admiring foreman.
"I expect I'm under particular obligations to that straight right to the chin, Lieutenant," chimed in the sheepman."The fact is that I don't seem to be able to get out anything except thanks these days.I ought to send my cousin a letter thanking him for giving me a chance to owe so muchkindness to so many people."
"Your cousin?" repeated the uncomprehending officer.
"This desperado, Bannister, is my cousin," answered the sheepman gravely.
"But if he was your cousin, why should he want--to kill you?" "That's a long story, Lieutenant.Will y'u hear it now?""If you feel strong enough to tell it."
"Oh, I'm strong enough." He glanced at Helen."Perhaps we had better not tire Miss Messiter with it.If y'u'll come to my room--""I should like, above all things, to hear it again," interrupted that young woman promptly.
For the man she loved had just come back to her from the brink of the grave and she was still reluctant to let him out of her sight.
So Ned Bannister told his story once more, and out of the alcove came the happy foreman and Nora to listen to the tale.While he told it his sweetheart's contented eyes were on him.The excitement of the night burnt pleasantly in her veins, for out of the nettle danger she had plucked safety for her sheepman.
