He was a determined boy. Even in my despair, in my wild hope that I
could save Jack by begging on my knees, that I could cling to him, that
they would have to kill me first, I could not help a smile at the
comical figure Yik Kee presented on horseback. His loose garments
flapped in the wind, his long pig-tail flew out behind, and he bobbed
up and down like a kernel of corn in a corn-hopper.
It was a soft, warm night, lighted only by the pale young moon and the
twinkling stars. We rode as fast as our horses could gallop. Shep was
close at our heels. Way ahead, when we reached the top of a little hill,
we saw the crowd of horsemen. They were riding toward Denver. We
galloped on with renewed zeal. They turned into a cross road leading to
Mead's ranch. On this road was a bridge over Dry Gulch, which was in the
spring a roaring torrent. Beyond the bridge, across the fields, was the
hay-stack of Mead, where was stored sufficient to feed his domestic
cattle through the winter. We at last reached the turn in the road. They
were three miles in advance, riding rapidly. Yik Kee stopped at the
turn. "Hump! Can't catchee.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215