Chapter 37
After that call first reached him, clear to his ears though
vague as a murmur at the ear of Mary, McGurk swung to the saddle of
his white horse, and galloped down the gorge like a veritable angel
of death.
The end was very near, he felt, yet the chances were at least
ten to one that he would miss Pierre in the throat of the gorge,
for among the great boulders, tall as houses, which littered it, a
thousand men might have passed and repassed and never seen each
other. Only the calling of Pierre could guide him surely.
The calling had ceased for some moments, and he began to fear
that he had overrun his mark and missed Pierre in the heart of the
pass, when, as he rounded a mighty boulder, the shout ran ringing
in his very ears: "McGurk!" and a horseman swung into view.
