But you can't--see? I'll have this
business done with. I'll end this business!"
She felt herself sinking to her knees. He advanced and gripped her
left wrist. The crunch of his iron fingers sent an arrow of pain
through her arm. It bore her down.
"For God's sake--_don't_!" she whispered hoarsely, overwhelmed with
horror. For the cold, sharp nose of the revolver suddenly punched
her neck.
"I ain't leavin' no traces behind. Might as well be hung for a sheep
as a lamb. Never mind if I do----"
"Look!" she cried wildly. "Look, look, _look_!" And with her free
hand she pointed behind him.
It was an old trick. There was nothing behind him. But in that
instant of desperation instinct had guided her.
Involuntarily he turned.
With a scream of pain she twisted from his grasp and blotted out the
candle.
A long, livid pencil of orange flame spurted from the gun-point. She
sensed the powder-flare in her face. He had missed.
She scrambled for shelter beneath the table. The cabin was now in
inky blackness. Across that black four more threads of scarlet light
were laced. The man stumbled about seeking her, cursing with
blood-curdling blasphemy.
Suddenly he tripped and went sprawling. The gun clattered from his
bruised fingers; it struck the woman's knee.
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