You fool, you've done it now. They could hear that
miles away. Hurry now. They ain't far off now."
As he depressed the lever of the rifle to reload it, he found that the
magazine was empty. He clapped his hands to his sides, feeling rapidly
first in one pocket, then in another. He had forgotten to take extra
cartridges with him. McTeague swore under his breath as he flung the
rifle away. Henceforth he must travel unarmed.
A little more water had gathered in the mud hole near which he had
camped. He watered the mule for the last time and wet the sacks around
the canary's cage. Then once more he set forward.
But there was a change in the direction of McTeague's flight. Hitherto
he had held to the south, keeping upon the very edge of the hills;
now he turned sharply at right angles. The slope fell away beneath his
hurrying feet; the sage-brush dwindled, and at length ceased; the sand
gave place to a fine powder, white as snow; and an hour after he
had fired the rifle his mule's hoofs were crisping and cracking the
sun-baked flakes of alkali on the surface of Death Valley.
Tracked and harried, as he felt himself to be, from one camping place to
another, McTeague had suddenly resolved to make one last effort to rid
himself of the enemy that seemed to hang upon his heels.
Pages:
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503