Plunging
out of the doorway, the desperado vaulted to the saddle and drove
his spurs home. For a minute hoofs pounded on the hard, white
road. Then the night swallowed him and the echo of his
disappearance.
"That was Bannister of the Shoshones and the Tetons," the girl's
white lips pronounced to Lieutenant Beecher.
"And I let him get away from me," the disappointed lad groaned.
"Why, I had him right in my hands. I could have throttled him as
easy. But how was I to know he would have nerve enough to come
rushing into a hotel full of soldiers hunting him?"
"Y'u have a very persistent cousin, Mr. Bannister," said
McWilliams, coming forward from the alcove with shining eyes.
"And I must say he's game. Did y'u ever hear the like? Come
butting in here as cool as if he hadn't a thing to do but sing
out orders like he was in his own home. He was that easy."
"It seems to me that a little of the praise is due Lieutenant
Beecher. If he hadn't dealt so competently with the situation
murder would have been done. Did you learn your boxing at the
Academy, Lieutenant?" Helen asked, trying to treat the situation
lightly in spite of her hammering heart.
"I was the champion middleweight of our class," Beecher could not
help saying boyishly, with another of his blushes.
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