She went out into the kitchen, and they heard her moving about, collecting the things he needed.
“I'll have to take your horse, Kent.” Manley turned to him with a certain wheedling tone, infinitely disgusting to the other. “Mine's all in--I rode him down, getting this far. I've got to get across the river, and into the hills the other side--I can dodge 'em over there. You can have my horse--he's good as yours, anyway.” He seemed to fed a slight discomfort at Kent's silence. “You've always stood by me--anyway, it wasn't so much my fault--he came at me unawares, and says 'Man Fleetwood, you're my prisoner!' Why, the very tone of him was an insult--and I won't stand for being arrested--I pulled my gun and got him through the lungs--heard 'em yelling he was dead--Hurry up with that grub! I can't wait here till--”
“I ought to tell you Michael's no good for water,” Kent forced himself to say. “He's liable to turn back on you; he's scared of it.”
“He won't turn back with _me_--not with old Jake Bondy at my heels!” Manley snatched the bag of provisions from Val when she appeared, and started for the door.
“You better leave off some of that hardware, then,” Kent advised perfunctorily. “You're liable to have to swim.”
“I don't care how I get across, just so--” A panic seemed to seize him then. Without a word of thanks or farewell he rushed out, threw himself into Kent's saddle without taking time to tie on his bundle of bacon and flour, or remembering the blanket he had asked for. Holding his provisions under his arm, his rifle in one hand, and his reins clutched in the other, he struck the spurs home and raced down the coulee toward the river. Fred and Polycarp had not troubled to put up the wire gate after emptying the river field, so he had a straight run of it to the very river bank. The two stood together at the window and watched him go.
“He thought it was I burned out that, brand; did you notice what he said?” Val, as frequently happens in times of stress, spoke first of a trivial matter, before her mind would grasp the greater issues.
“He'll never make it,” said Kent, speaking involuntarily his thought. “There comes old Jake Bondy, now, down the hill. Still, I dunno--if Michael takes to the water all right--”
