Valley of the Vanishing Men (1961)
“The clanking hoofs pounded nearer. They thundered in the very ears of Ben Trainor. As he pulled one of Blacky’s guns, he looked up at the lofty silhouette of a rider who was swinging around the corner of the very boulder that sheltered them.
It was the tall figure of the gunman named Perry, who sat in the saddle, pulling his horse back on its haunches, and whipping out a revolver. So the two confronted one another. Trainor, to be sure, had the drop, but the noise of a gunshot would be certain t...o draw in the rest of the searchers. Perry stared down bewildered at the crouched body at the verge of the pool.
“By thunder,” said Perry. “You got him, did you?” He pointed to the limp body of Clive. He pointed to the horses.
“You got him — and the bosses to pack him on — from Christian and Yates. You knocked Blacky cold as a cork. And here you are, by the jumping thunder!” said Perry.
Deliberately he put up his revolver.
He pulled off his hat and mopped his brow. The mustang walked on, unguided, toward the pool, entered it knee-deep, and drank.MoreLess
It was the tall figure of the gunman named Perry, who sat in the saddle, pulling his horse back on its haunches, and whipping out a revolver. So the two confronted one another. Trainor, to be sure, had the drop, but the noise of a gunshot would be certain t...o draw in the rest of the searchers. Perry stared down bewildered at the crouched body at the verge of the pool.
“By thunder,” said Perry. “You got him, did you?” He pointed to the limp body of Clive. He pointed to the horses.
“You got him — and the bosses to pack him on — from Christian and Yates. You knocked Blacky cold as a cork. And here you are, by the jumping thunder!” said Perry.
Deliberately he put up his revolver.
He pulled off his hat and mopped his brow. The mustang walked on, unguided, toward the pool, entered it knee-deep, and drank.MoreLess
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