In the pure, clear eyes upturned to his he read pity, sympathy
interest--nothing more. She nodded.
"When times mended in Southern California he thought he saw his chance
to get back all he'd lost: just one o' those dead sure shots which
will miss fire. He'd not a cent of his own, so he borrowed, without
askin' leave, a few hundreds, that was all, jest a few hundreds from
somebody else."
"He was a--thief," said Sadie calmly.
"It's too hard a word that. Now then, I'm getting to the point. My
friend, deputy-sheriff like me, found himself in this hell of--I mean
in this terrible tight place. He was sent to arrest the father of the
girl he loved."
"Oh-h-h!"
This prolonged exclamation sadly puzzled Jeff, whose claim to
consideration at the hands of many friends was a guileless
transparency of purpose, a candour and simplicity unhappily too rare.
Now, his climax, so artfully introduced, provoked nothing more
satisfactory than this "Oh-h-h!"
"Well," continued Jeff, gazing almost fiercely into Sadie's eyes, "my
friend found the father, and he knew that he could arrest him, or he
could earn the everlastin' gratitude of the girl by letting him
escape--and _helping_ him to escape.
Pages:
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395