Читать книгу Jesse James' Desperate Game; Or, The Robbery of the Ste. Genevieve Bank онлайн

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"I think she's only swooned," replied her rescuer. "If you'll force some of this brandy down her throat, I fancy it'll revive her," and he extended his flask.

But as her parent reached out his hand to take it, the girl opened her eyes.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she murmured as she beheld her father's face, then, turning her head, asked: "Where is the gentleman who saved my life?"

Before he could reply, however, his daughter had freed herself from his embrace and, springing lightly to her feet, rushed to Jesse, taking both his hands in hers, impulsively, while she exclaimed:

"How can I ever thank you? If it hadn't been for you—ugh!" and she shuddered, turning her head away that she might not see the low lintelled gate that had come so near being her execution block.

As the bandit-chieftain had felt the touch of her hands, a thrill ran through him and looking closely at her, he discovered that her face was of unusual beauty.

Her skin was as the olive, the bloom of the rose glowed in her cheeks; deep and limpid, black bottomless wells of love-joy were her eyes; her lips seemed crimson Cupid's bows and in unruly ringlets, her wavy, raven black hair fell about her full throat and shell-like ears.