The Ox-Bow Incident

The Ox-Bow Incident

The Ox-Bow Incident

The Ox-Bow Incident

Excerpt

Farnley was climbing onto his horse. He moved slowly and deliberately, like a man with his mind made up. A rider yelled, as if Farnley was half a mile off, "Hey, Jeff. Wait up; we'll form a posse."

"I can get the sons-of-bitches," Farnley said, and reined around.

Moore said, "He's crazy," and started out into the street. But Davies was ahead of him. He came alongside Farnley in a little, shuffling run, and took hold of his bridle. The horse, checked, wheeled his stern away from Davies and switched his tail. The way Farnley looked down, I thought he was going to let Davies have it in the face with his quirt. But he didn't. Davies was an old man, short and narrow and so round-shouldered he was nearly a hunchback, and with very white, silky hair. His hollow, high-cheeked face, looking up at Farnley, was white from indoor work, and had deep forehead lines and two deep, clear lines each side of a wide, thin mouth. The veins made his hollow temples appear blue. He would have been a good figure for a miser except for his eyes, which were a queerly young, bright . . .

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