30/36 Moore lay unconscious, with ghastly, bloody features, and his bandaged foot showed great splotches of red. "You didn't pick on this hyar crippled boy ?" The evidence was plain, in Moore's quiet, pathetic form, in the panting, purple-faced son. Jack Belllounds did not answer. He was in the grip of a passion that had at last been wholly unleashed and was still unsatisfied. Yet a malignant and exultant gratification showed in his face. |