the holes near whose edge they swayed perilously. The blood was flowing from Stone's shoulder and he put forth all his efforts, thinking he might weaken from the loss of it. Once Padilla swept him from his feet but he regained them and they neared the edge of the butte.
Padilla broke Stone's hold and his hands fastened about Stone's throat, closing down like clamps, shutting off his wind. Stone tore them free and punched short and hard, driving in to Padilla's belly, with a recollection of the fight at Castro's and Larkin's admonition. Padilla staggered back, his face awful under the bright moon as he stepped into space, clutched at nothing, and fell over the sheer edge.
Stone turned, panting, to recover his gun and saw Larkin grinning at him.
"Just got in at the finish," he said. "You was doin' nicely, so I didn't hinterfere. You was too close to the hedge, for one thing."
"Kill your man?" asked Stone.
Larkin jerked his head toward a pothole.
"Strangled 'im, the dirty greaser. I told you I was a two-'anded cove. Oo was yours? Padilla?"
Stone nodded. He hadn't much breath to spare.
"Serves 'im bloody well right," said Larkin. "Now there's Mister 'Ealy to hattend to. Hafter dooty comes pleasure. Let's go down to the ladies."
