Explore "The Danger Trail" by James Oliver Curwood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For many minutes Howland stood waiting as if life had left him. His eyes were on the door, but unseeing. He made no sound, no movement again toward the aperture in the wall. Fate had dealt him the final blow, and when at last he roused himself from its first terrible effect there remained no glimmering of hope in his breast, no thought of the battle he had been making for freedom a short time before. The note fluttered from his fingers and he drew his watch from his pocket and placed it on the table. It was a quarter after five. There still remained forty-five minutes.
Three-quarters of an hour and then -- death. There was no doubt in his mind this time. Ever in the coyote, with eternity staring him in the face, he had hoped and fought for life. But here there was no hope, there was to be no fighting. Through one of the black holes in the wall he was to be shot down, with no chance to defend himself, to prove himself innocent. And Meleese -- did she, too, believe him guilty of that crime?