With
some idea that he might attempt to draw a weapon one of the men
took hold of him, but Murrell was nerveless to his touch; his
face had gone a ghastly white and was streaked with the markings
of terror.
"Well, by thunder!" cried the man in utter amazement.
Murrell looked into Hues' face.
"You--you--" and the words thickened on his tongue becoming an
inarticulate murmur.
"It's all up, John," said Hues.
"No!" said Murrell, recovering himself. "You may as well turn me
loose--you can't arrest me!"
"I've done it," answered Hues, with a laugh. "I've been on your
track for six months."
"How about this fellow?" asked the man, whose pistol still
covered Ware. Hues glanced toward the planter and shook his
head.
"Where are you going to take me?" asked Murrell quickly. Again
Hues laughed.
"You'll find that out in plenty of time, and then your friends
can pass the word around if they like; now you'll come with me!"
Ware neither moved nor spoke as Hues and his prisoner passed back
along the path, Hues with his hand on Murrell's shoulder, and one
of his companions close at his heels, while the third man led off
the outlaw's horse.
Presently the distant clatter of hoofs was borne to Ware's
ears--only that; the miracle of courage and daring he had half
expected had not happened. Murrell, for all his wild boasting,
was like other men, like himself. His bloodshot eyes slid around
in their sockets. There across the sunlit stretch of water was
Betty--the thought of her brought him to quick choking terrors.
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