CHAPTER 19BRUCE POWELL tried unsuccessfully to sleep as the two o’clock train jolted westward over the uneven tracks. Around him the hired crew snored in twenty different keys, the sound of their slumber blending not unpleasantly with the forward rush of the train.
At his side Sandson’s slight body was slack, at ease, swaying with each motion of the creaking car. Powell looked at him, studying the marshal’s relaxed face, and decided that he disliked the man more thoroughly than ever. There was a lean-jawed hungriness about the face which reminded him unpleasantly of a starving wolf and even in sleep Sandson seemed to exude an arrogant confidence which was entirely offensive.
But he had to admit the marshal’s worth. He had watched the faces of the men as Sandson talked with them, and note
