A powerful form hurled itself upon him, and he was thrown to the ground.
He looked up and met the eyes of Henry Ware, who knelt upon him. No, it
was certainly not a shadow but the most unpleasant of all facts!
Braxton Wyatt was at first paralyzed by terror and the suddenness of the
attack. When he recovered, one hand of Henry pressed heavily upon his
mouth, while the other felt rapidly through his clothing. "Look for any
unusual thickness in his waistcoat; that is probably the place," Oliver
Pollock had said. Henry's hand in a few moments ran upon something folded
between the cloth and lining of the waistcoat. He snatched out his knife,
cut them apart and out fell several folds of fine, thin deerskin. He knew
that the prize had been secured, and he meant to keep it.
Henry thrust the folds of deerskin in his pocket and sprang to his feet.
"Now, you scoundrel!" he exclaimed, "tell what tale you please and we will
prove another!"
Then the terrible reality resolved itself back into a shadow, and was
gone. Braxton Wyatt sprang to his feet, clapped his hand to his mangled
waistcoat where the precious package had been, and uttered a strangled
cry. Then he ran through the trees to the house of Alvarez.
* * * * *
A quarter of an hour later Oliver Pollock was sitting at his own window in
the little office and his thoughts were not happy.
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