Page 228
By Jack Joseph Smith
He scanned the top of this last hill on the mount-
ain; and as Shotgun approached on the run, the notions
of dark blue shapes began to move across the crest, vib-
rating an inner heat against the golden sun.
Now Shotgun stood before him attempting to pro-
nounce words through his partings. "The shotgun is
not loaded; never has been, it is my symbol, my
images."
With the expression of a ragged lord in his face;
Blackman took the gun from him saying, "go and tell
the people in the circle."
Shotgun stood stilled a second, unsure. Filled
with chaos, his eyes emerged in redness, a simple
gesture of alarm blurted out an understanding he
had never communicated to this man. "My God," he
said; his stomach bringing up the breath of loss
through his throat.
Blackman stepped out in a quarter turn, and from
shoulder to shoulder made a half-circle sweep of
his right arm over the dry under-turned follage-
purple, berries-red, and weeds-yellow. "There is
no God here;" he replied. "Now go!"
The law stood above him. Up to the left they were
decending. The eight men spread themselves in a V
from the beginning of their decent. Now Blackman