Читать книгу The Saint of the Speedway онлайн

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He abruptly bestirred himself and a sound escaped him that was like a laugh. But his harsh face and baffling eyes gave no sign. He turned and fastened his cabin door behind him. Then he moved across to the ponies patiently awaiting his pleasure.

He passed round them quickly, feeling the cinche of both. The pack was secure, but his own saddle required tightening up. He raised the legadero of the saddle and pulled mercilessly on the knotted strap. Then he kicked the grass-fed belly of the docile creature to make the tightening closer. Finally, he dropped the legadero to its full length and prepared to mount.

As he did so a blaze of sun shone out from behind the summer cloud-bank and the man looked up with something like a start. For a second he gazed without blinking and his brows depressed as though the sight of the sun offended him. Then he glanced away, and followed its beam where it threw his own shadow absurdly fore-shortened on the ground. In a moment he had raised his foot to the stirrup and swung himself clumsily into the saddle, and, snatching up the rawhide quirt hanging on the horn in front of him, he slashed viciously and needlessly at both horses.