A rumor came to the men, however, just before they started, which made
several of them look at one another--for there had been those who had
seen Ben Nyland riding down the street toward Maison's bank in the
dusk, his face set and grim and a wild light in his eyes.
"Maison has been guzzled--he's deader than a salt mackerel!" came the
word, leaping from lip to lip.
Sheriff Warde grinned. "Serves him right," he declared; "that's one
less for us to hang!"
CHAPTER XXXI
THE FUGITIVE
After the departure of Barney Owen and Mary Bransford, the Double A
ranchhouse was as silent as any house, supposed to be occupied by a
dead man, could be.
But after a few minutes, if one had looked over the top of the
partition from which Owen had hanged Alva Dale, one might have seen
Dale move a little. One might have been frightened, but if one had
stayed there, it would have been to see Dale move again.
The first time he moved he had merely placed his feet upon the floor,
to rest himself. The second movement resulted in him raising his
smashed hands and lifting the noose from his neck.
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