Bob Hampton of Placer - Page 175/205

Beneath the shade of uplifted arms Murphy's eyes remained unclosed.

Whatever terrors may have dominated that diseased brain, the one

purpose of revenge and escape never deserted it. With patient cunning

he could plan and wait, scheme and execute. He was all animal now,

dreaming only of how to tear and kill.

And he waited long in order to be perfectly sure, unrolling inch by

inch, and like a venomous snake, never venturing to withdraw his

baleful eyes from his unconscious victim. He was many minutes

thoroughly satisfying himself that Hampton actually slept. His every

movement was slow, crafty, cowardly, the savage in his perverted nature

becoming more and more manifest. It was more beast than man that

finally crept forward on all-fours, the eyes gleaming cruel as a cat's

in the night. It was not far he was compelled to go, his movements

squirming and noiseless. Within a yard of the peacefully slumbering

man he rose up, crouching on his toes and bending stealthily forward to

gloat over his victim. Hampton stirred uneasily, possibly feeling the

close proximity of that horrible presence. Then the maniac took one

more stealthy, slouching step nearer, and flung himself at the exposed

throat, uttering a fierce snarl as his fingers clutched the soft flesh.

Hampton awoke, gasping and choking, to find those mad eyes glaring into

his own, those murderous hands throttling him with the strength of

madness.

At first the stupefied, half-awakened man struggled as if in delirium,

scarcely realizing the danger. He was aware of suffering, of horror,

of suffocation. Then the brain flashed into life, and he grappled

fiercely with his dread antagonist. Murphy snapped like a mad dog, his

lips snarling curses; but Hampton fought silently, desperately, his

brain clearing as he succeeded in wrenching those claws from his

lacerated throat, and forced his way up on to one knee. He felt no

hatred toward this crazed man striving to kill him; he understood what

had loosed such a raging devil. But this was no time to exhibit mercy;

Murphy bit and clawed, and Hampton could only dash in upon him in the

effort to force him back. He worked his way, inch by inch, to his

feet, his slender figure rigid as steel, and closed in upon the other;

but Murphy writhed out of his grasp, as a snake might. The younger man

realized now to the full his peril, and his hand slipped down to the

gun upon his hip. There was a sudden glint in the faint starlight as

he struck, and the stunned maniac went down quivering, and lay

motionless on the hard ground. For a moment the other remained

standing over him, the heavy revolver poised, but the prostrate figure

lay still, and the conqueror slipped his weapon back into its leather

sheath with a sigh of relief.