The deep shadows blinded
him, but there was no hesitancy, some instinct causing him to feel the
urgent need of haste. Once he stumbled and fell headlong, but was as
instantly up again, bruised yet not seriously hurt. His revolver was
jerked loose from his belt, but the man never paused to search for it.
Even as he regained his feet, his mind bewildered by the shock, his
ears distinguished clearly the cry of a woman, the sound of heavy feet
crushing through underbrush. It was to his right, and he hurled
himself directly into the thick chaparral in the direction from whence
the sound came.
He knew not what new terror awaited him, what peril lurked in the path.
At that moment he cared nothing. Bareheaded, pushing desperately aside
the obstructing branches, his heart throbbing, his clothing torn, his
face white with determination, he struggled madly forward, stumbling,
creeping, fighting a passage, until he finally emerged, breathless but
resolute, into a little cove extending back into the rock wall.
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