Three-quarters of an hour slipped by, then, piercing the silence,
Murrell heard a shrill whistle; it was twice repeated; he saw
Bess go down to the landing again. A half-hour elapsed and a man
issued from the scattering growth of bushes that screened the
shore. The new-comer crossed the clearing and entered the cabin.
He was a young fellow of twenty-four or five, whose bronzed and
sunburnt face wore a somewhat reckless expression.
"Well, Captain, what's doing?" he asked, as he shook hands with
Murrell.
"I've been waiting for you, Hues," said Murrell. He continued,
"I reckon the time's here when nothing will be gained by delay."
Hues dropped down on a three-legged stool and looked at the
outlaw fixedly and in silence for a moment. At length he nodded
understandingly.
"You mean?"
"If anything's to be done, now is the time. What have you to
report?"
"Well, I've seen the council of each Clan division. They are
ripe to start this thing off."
Murrell gave him a moment of moody regard.
"Twice already I've named the day and hour, but now I'm going to
put it through!" He set his teeth and thrust out his jaw.
"Captain, you're the greatest fellow in America! Inside of a
week men who have never been within five hundred miles of you
will be asking each other who John Murrell is!"
Murrell had expected to part with Hues then and there and for all
time, but Hues possessed qualities which might still be of use to
him.
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