two

When, in late afternoon on the last day in June, he saw two people top the ridge to the south and walk toward the house, he quit work immediately and strode to his rifle.

Morgan watched the two figures for a time, puzzled.

He had seen a few nester wagons go through the country, the families almost starving to death, but he had never seen any of them on foot and as bad off as these two.

We ran out of money and we haven't eaten for two days ''.

He told himself he had never seen two people eat so much.

They killed Big Charlie, dumped his body in my rose garden two nights ago.

Start out fresh, the two of us, like nothin had ever happened ''.

The two horses broke from the yard, from the circle of light cast by the lamp still burning in the house, into the darkness.

They had been seen as soon as they left the ranch, picked out of the darkness by the weary though watchful eyes of two men posted a few hundred yards away in the windless shelter of the trees.

The two men whipped their horses into town and flung themselves up the steps of the saloon, crying their intelligence.

It was pierced by a wagon gate built of two wings.

He scuttled in shadow along the east wall of the stockade and then followed the south wall until he was at the rear of the two frame buildings.

He crawled beneath the two supply wagons which stood between the buildings and peered around a corner.

His looting of the orderly room had taken only a minute or two and the vicinity was still clear of guerrillas.

A bullet tore the earth from beneath his foot when he was a stride or two from safety.

He was riding between two warriors, who held him erect when he started to slump.

She glanced around the clearing, taking in the wagon and the load of supplies and trappings scattered over the ground, the two kids, the whiteface bull that was chewing its cud just within the far reaches of the firelight.

And they had almost everything they needed: land, a house, two whiteface bulls, three horses.

He had spent two hours riding around the ranch that morning, and in broad daylight it was even less inviting than Judith Pierce had made it seem.

They, and the two large fans which I could dimly see as daylight filtered through their vents, down at the far end of the hall, could be turned on by a master switch situated inside the office.

The presence of the two exhaust fans seemed to indicate that the hall could become crowded for air.

I could observe the two fans down at the end, but their size in themselves meant nothing to me as long as I had no measure of comparison.

The only thing which would have attracted attention was that two wore the uniform of prison guards, three the striped suits of convicts.

A company of cavalry couldn't come in there if two men were guarding that trail ''.

Chapter two