But Jim Lucky cast up both hands and ran.
"Stop, you fool! Stop!"
I think the poor creature had no notion whither he ran; that he was
merely demented. But, in fact, he headed straight for the ridge,
not turning his head. Twice Glass called after him; then, in a
sudden fury, whipped out a pistol and fired. For the moment I
supposed that he had missed, for the man ran for another six strides
without seeming to falter, then his knees weakened, and he pitched
forward on his face.
I believe, on my word, that Glass had either fired in blind passion
or with intent to stop the man rather than to kill him. He stood and
stared; and, while the pistol yet smoked in his hand, I saw Dr.
Beauregard step forth from his shelter, step delicately past the
corpse, and raise his musket; and heard his clear, resonant voice
call out--
"Both hands up, Mr. Glass, if you please!"
CHAPTER XXXII.
WE COME TO DR. BEAUREGARD'S HOUSE.
Glass's arm fell limp by his side, as though Dr. Beauregard had
actually pulled the trigger and winged him. He turned half-about as
the pistol slid from his fingers. He gave no cry; only there leached
us a loose, throttling sound such as a steam whistle makes before
fetching its note.
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