The hand of Pierre
had not moved.
He cried: "By God, Pierre, what do you mean?"
There was no answer. He strode across the intervening space, dropped
his gun and caught the other by the shoulders. Out of Pierre's
nerveless fingers the revolver slipped to the ground.
"In the name of God, Pierre, what has happened to you?"
"Dick, why didn't you fire?"
"Fire? Murder you?"
"You shoot straight--I know--it would have been over quickly."
"What is it, boy? You look dead--there's no color in your face, no
light in your eyes, even your voice is dead. I know it isn't fear.
What is it?"
"You're wrong. It's fear."
"Fear and Red Pierre. The two don't mate."
"Fear of living, Dick."
"So that's it? God help you. Pierre, forgive me. I should have known
that you had met her before, but I was mad, and didn't know what I was
doing, couldn't think."
"It's over and forgotten. I have to go back and get Jack. Will you
ride home with us?"
"Jack? She's not in the hall. She left shortly after you went, and she
means some deviltry.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191