I'd go plumb mad out there
alone."
The Irishman shrugged in silence and attempted to pass.
"Please don't go," repeated Craig swiftly. "I know I'm acting like a
child, but this cursed country's to blame. Stay with me this last night.
I couldn't sleep, and it's madness to be alone. See me through this and
I swear you'll not regret it. I swear it!"
Just for a second O'Reilly paused; then of a sudden his face flamed red
through his untrimmed beard.
"To hell with your money!" he blazed. "I wouldn't lift my finger for you
if How Landor were to come this second." He checked himself and took a
step forward meaningly. "Besides, I couldn't help you any if I would.
God himself couldn't protect you now unless He performed a miracle. Out
of my way. I tell you I'm done with you."
Craig had not stirred. He did not now; and of a sudden the overseer
turned to pass around. As he did so for the first time he faced the
single window that looked north toward the second ranch house: the house
which How Landor had builded to receive his bride. The curtain was still
down, but to the Irishman's quick eye there rested upon it now a dull
glow that was not a reflection of the light within. A second after he
noticed the man halted, looking at it, speculating as to its meaning.
Then of a sudden he realised; and in two steps he was across the room
and simultaneously the obscuring shade shot up with a crash.
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