Читать книгу Nameless River онлайн

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Her skin rose in tiny prickles, she felt her muscles stiffen. She had lived in the face of menace so long that she was super-sensitive and had developed a seventh sense that was quick to the nth degree.

She stood for a moment gathering her powers, then she whirled in her tracks, sweeping the cañon’s width with eyes that missed nothing.

They did not miss the movement which was almost too swift for sight—the dropping of some dark object behind a rock, the passing of a bit of plumy tail.

The rock itself was between her and the broken foot of the wall, one of a mass that had tumbled from the weathered face. For a long time she stood very still, waiting, watching with unwinking eyes. Then, at the rock’s edge, but farther away, she caught another glimpse of that tail-tip. Its wearer was making for the wall-foot, keeping the rock between. A wolf would do so—but there was something about that bit of plume which did not spell wolf. It was tawny white, and it was more loosely haired, not of the exact quality of a wolf’s brush. Once more a tiny tip showed—and on a sudden daring impulse Nance Allison leaped for the rock, caught its top with both hands and peered over.