CHAPTER 34
An hour’s ride brought them to the environs of the little town. But it
was already nearly the middle of night and the village was black;
whatever life waked at that hour had been drawn into the vortex of
Pedro’s. And Pedro’s was a place of silence. Terry and Denver skirted
down the back of the town and saw the broad windows of Pedro’s, against
which passed a moving silhouette now and again, but never a voice floated
out to them.
Otherwise the town was dead. They rode until they were at the other
extremity of the main street. Here, according to Denver, was the bank
which had never in its entire history been the scene of an attempted
raid. They threw the reins of their horses after drawing almost
perilously close.
“Because if we get what we want,” said Terry, “it will
