"
Too astonished to do anything else, Jim obeyed, and hastily thrusting
the rifle under a pile of leaves by a log near by, the moonshiner
forced his companion before him through the underbrush to a big rock
some distance from the road. The sound of the galloping horse came
louder and louder.
"Stand thar' behin' that rock 'n if ye stir I'll kill ye," whispered
Jake; and taking a position behind a tree where he could watch Jim as
well as the road, he waited with rifle cocked and murder written in
every line of his hard face.
Nearer and nearer came the galloping horse. Whitley was fascinated and
moved slightly so that he could peep over the rock. A low hiss from
Jake fell upon his ear like the warning hiss of a serpent, and half
turning, he saw the rifle pointing full at him. He nodded his head,
and placing his finger upon his lips to indicate that he understood,
turned his face toward the road again, just as the horse and his rider
came into view.
The animal, though going freely, was covered with dust and dripping
with sweat, which showed a creamy lather on his flanks, and where the
bridle reins touched his neck. The rider wore a blue flannel shirt,
open at the throat, corduroy trousers, tucked in long boots, and a
black slouch hat, with the brim turned up in front. At his belt hung
two heavy revolvers, and across the saddle he held a Winchester ready
for instant use. He sat his horse easily as one accustomed to much
riding, but like the animal, he showed the strain of a hard race.
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