Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that
seemed to have but one issue—the killing of Holderness. Mescal
would soon be upon Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and
this time there would be no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could
not kill the rustler while he was sleeping; and he could not awaken
him without revealing to his men the escape of the girl. Hare stood
there on the bench, gazing down on the blanketed Holderness. Why
not kill him now, ending forever his power, and trust to chance for
the rest? No, no! Hare flung the temptation from him. To ward off
pursuit as long as possible, to aid Mescal in every way to some
safe hiding-place, and then to seek Holderness—that was the
forethought of a man who had learned to wait.
Under the dark projec
