Only one thing did he
see ahead of him now--a last tremendous fight for Celie, and he
wanted the light of dawn to give him accuracy. He had thirty
cartridges, and it was possible that he could put up a successful
running fight until they reached Armin's cabin. After that fate
would decide. He was already hatching a scheme in his brain. If he
failed to get Blake early in the fight which he anticipated he
would show the white flag, demand a parley with the outlaw under
pretense of surrendering Celie, and shoot him dead the moment they
stood face to face. With Blake out of the way there might be
another way of dealing with Upi and his Kogmollocks. It was Blake
who wanted Celie. In Upi's eyes there were other things more
precious than a woman. The thought revived in him a new thrill of
hope. It recalled to him the incident of Father Breault and the
white woman nurse who, farther west, had been held for ransom by
the Nanamalutes three years ago. Not a hair of the woman's head
had been harmed in nine months of captivity.
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