"And--grub?"
"Thirty or forty rounds of rifle, a dozen Colt, and plenty of
meat--"
"Then into the cabin, and the dogs with us," almost shouted the
Swede.
From the edge of the forest came the report of a rifle and over
their heads went the humming drone of a bullet.
They were back at the cabin in a dozen seconds, tugging at the
dogs. It cost an effort to get them through the door, with the
sledge after them. Half a dozen shots came from the forest. A
bullet spattered against the log wall, found a crevice, and
something metallic jingled inside. As Olaf swung the door shut and
dropped the wooden bar in place Philip turned for a moment toward
Celie. She went to him, her eyes shining in the semi-gloom of the
cabin, and put her arms up about his shoulders. The Swede, looking
on, stood transfixed, and the white-bearded Armin stared
incredulously. On her tip-toes Celie kissed Philip, and then
turning with her arms still about him said something to the older
man that brought an audible gasp from Olaf.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273