Brace up, man, for you an' I have got
ter get out o' here afore mornin'."
Then Murphy grasped his arm, and drew himself slowly to his feet.
"Don't see nuthin' now, do ye?"
"No. Where's my--horse?"
The other silently reached him the loose rein, marking as he did so the
quick, nervous peering this way and that, the starting at the slightest
sound.
"Did ye say, Murphy, as how it wasn't Nolan after all who plugged the
Major?"
"I 'm damned--if I did. Who--else was it?"
"Why, I dunno. Sorter blamed odd though, thet ghost should be
a-hauntin' ye. Darn if it ain't creepy 'nough ter make a feller
believe most anythin'."
Murphy drew himself up heavily into his saddle. Then all at once he
shoved the muzzle of a "45" into the other's face. "Ye say nuther
word--'bout thet, an' I 'll make--a ghost outer ye--blame lively. Now,
ye shet up--if ye ride with me."
They moved forward at a walk and reached a higher level, across which
the night wind swept, bearing a touch of cold in its breath as though
coming from the snow-capped mountains to the west. There was renewed
life in this invigorating air, and Murphy spurred forward, his
companion pressing steadily after.
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