But human nature is weak. For the first time in his life Jose
Sanchez felt terror--a terror too awful to be endured--and he made
the sign.
He was no longer the insolent defier, the challenger, but an
imploring wretch, whose last powers of resistance had been
completely shattered. His frightened eyes were glued to that
devilish vessel in which his manhood had dissolved, the fear of it
made a woman of him.
Slowly, in sighs and whimpers, in agonies of reluctance, his story
came; his words were rendered almost incomprehensible by his
abysmal fright. When he had purged himself of his secret Dave
promptly unbound him; then leaving him more than half dead, he
went to the telephone which connected the pumping station with Las
Palmas and called up the ranch.
He was surprised when Blaze Jones answered. Blaze, it seemed, had
just arrived, summoned by news of the tragedy. The countryside had
been alarmed and a search for Ed Austin's slayer was being
organized.
"Call it off," Dave told him. "I've got your man." Blaze stuttered
his surprise and incredulity. "I mean it. It's Jose Sanchez, and
he has confessed. I want you to come here, quick; and come alone,
if you don't mind.
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