about? What was he doing here to-night? Why hadn’t he killed Westcott, instead of sitting here by his fire?

He passed a wavering hand before his eyes. Oh, yes. Now he remembered. Westcott was going to send him east—to God’s country. Meanwhile, he was dead for sleep. He caught himself, as he lurched in his chair, and rising heavily, he threw himself upon the couch.

18It was past noon when he woke. The sun lighted the yellow curtains; the door stood open, and Westcott bent over him, shaking him by the shoulder.

18

“Barker! Barker!” the attorney called.

“Barker! Wake up! Time to get out of this. I’ve got a chance to send you down to the railroad.”

By degrees he struggled to consciousness, and sat up. Westcott had brought him a big cup of steaming coffee.

“Drink this,” he said, not unkindly.

“My friend came up with the money,” he went on, as Barker drank, sitting sidewise on the couch. “He’s going to take you down in his buggy. He’ll fix you up all right.”

Barker was still dazed with sleep. His ears rang, and the lawyer’s voice sounded strange and far away. The coffee made him feel better. It soothed the cough that had racked him the moment he sat up.

“Now eat some grub,” Westcott said.

He had brought food from the hotel. Barker was still too far off to wonder at this. He had no desire for food, but he ate, obediently.

Westcott, meantime, had gone outside. In front of the hotel stood a big, rangy bay horse, hitched to a light road-wagon. Near the outfit lounged a 19tall, determined-looking man, who came forward when he saw the attorney.

19

“I’ve got to be getting a move on soon,” he said. “It’ll be late night, as ’tis, before we get there.”

“He’ll be ready in the shake of a horn,” the other replied.

“Say, Frank,” he continued. “He don’t know who you are. I’ve let on you’re a friend of mine, going to take him down. Let him think that till you get out of town.”

 Prev. P 10/179 next