| 193 | 194 | 195 | 196 | 197 |
| 1 | 50 | 101 | 151 | 201 |
|
Attwater ran to the body; he stooped and viewed it; he put his finger in
the vitriol, and his face whitened and hardened with anger.
Davis had not yet moved; he stood astonished, with his back to the
figure-head, his hands clutching it behind him, his body inclined
forward from the waist.
Attwater turned deliberately and covered him with his rifle.
'Davis,' he cried, in a voice like a trumpet, 'I give you sixty seconds
to make your peace with God!'
Davis looked, and his mind awoke. He did not dream of self-defence, he
did not reach for his pistol. He drew himself up instead to face death,
with a quivering nostril.
'I guess I'll not trouble the Old Man,' he said; 'considering the job I
was on, I guess it's better business to just shut my face.'
Attwater fired; there came a spasmodic movement of the victim, and
immediately above the middle of his forehead, a black hole marred the
whiteness of the figure-head. A dreadful pause; then again the report,
and the solid sound and jar of the bullet in the wood; and this time the
captain had felt the wind of it along his cheek. A third shot, and he
was bleeding from one ear; and along the levelled rifle Attwater smiled
like a Red Indian.
195
Page
Quick Jump
|