Having been satisfied on these
points, the outlaw rose, and pacing the apartment with slow steps,
seemed to meditate some design which the narrative had suggested.
Suddenly pausing, at length, as if all the necessary lights had shone in
upon his deliberations at once, he turned to Dillon, who stood in silent
waiting, and thus proceeded:--
"I have it," said he, half-musingly, "I have it, Dillon--it must be so.
How far, say you, is it from the place where the man--what's his
name--encamped last night?"
"Nine or ten miles, perhaps, or more."
"And you know his route for to-day?"
"There is now but one which he can take, pursuing the route which he
does."
"And upon that he will not go more than fifteen or twenty miles in the
day. But not so with _him_--not so with _him_. He will scarcely be
content to move at that pace, and there will be no hope in that way to
overtake him."
Rivers spoke in soliloquy, and Dillon, though accustomed to many of the
mental irregularities of his superior, exhibited something like surprise
as he looked upon the lowering brows and unwonted indecision of the
outlaw.
Pages:
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626