|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: blue-white smoke came from the ferns overhanging a cliff.
Crack!
All heard the shot of a rifle; all noticed the difference between its clear,
ringing intonation and the loud reports of the other two. All distinctly heard
the zip of a bullet as it whistled over their heads.
All? No, not all. One did not hear that speeding bullet. He who was the
central figure in this tragic scene, he who had doomed the Christians might
have seen that tiny puff of smoke which heralded his own doom, but before the
ringing report could reach his ears a small blue hole appeared, as if by
magic, over his left eye, and pulse, and sense, and life had fled forever.
Half King, great, cruel chieftain, stood still for an instant as if he had
The Spirit of the Border |
