Spontaneously he
had leaned toward Kid Rickard because the Kid was a "killer" and Elmer
was a boy; in other words, because young Page's imagination made of
Rickard a truly picturesque figure. Since Rickard admired Jim Galloway
as he had never known how to admire aught else that breathed and
walked, Elmer's eyes had from the first rested approvingly upon the
massive figure of Casa Blanca's owner. That both Galloway and Rickard
were fighting against persecution, were merely individuals wronged by
the law and too fearlessly independent to submit to the high hand of
sheriff or judge, was easily implanted in the boy's mind. Yesterday
his fancies were ready to make heroes of Galloway and his crowd, to
make of Norton a meddler hiding behind the bulwark of his office, and
hounding those who were too manly to step aside for him. But now Elmer
was all at sea, no land in sight.
"A gun in each hand, Sis," he cried warmly, his cheeks flushed, as the
almost constantly recurring picture formed again in his memory. "And
if you could have only seen his eyes! Talk about hiding behind
anything . . . no sir! And him only one against Galloway and the Kid
and Nunez and a whole room full."
Here was Elmer's trouble drawn to the surface; he was touched with
leaping admiration for the man who lay now in the darkened room, he
couldn't admire both Norton, the sheriff, and Galloway and Rickard, the
sheriff's sworn enemies! Which way should Elmer Page turn? Virginia
very wisely held her tongue.
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