gency among the troughs of slush. Edna
had made a gallant resistance, but he was still vigorously about and
extraordinarily impatient. He might, she said, come at any time, and she
looked Bert in the eyes. They were back already in the barbaric stage
when a man must fight for his love.

And here one deplores the conflicts of truth with the chivalrous
tradition. One would like to tell of Bert sallying forth to challenge
his rival, of a ring formed and a spirited encounter, and Bert by some
miracle of pluck and love and good fortune winning. But indeed nothing
of the sort occurred. Instead, he reloaded his revolver very carefully,
and then sat in the best room of the cottage by the derelict brickfield,
looking anxious and perplexed, and listening to talk about Bill and his
ways, and thinking, thinking. Then suddenly Edna's aunt, with a thrill
in her voice, announced the appearance of that individual. He was coming
with two others of his gang through the garden gate. Bert got up, put
the woman aside, and looked out. They presented remarkable figures.
They wore a sort of uniform of red golfing jackets and white sweaters,
football singlet, and stockings and boots and each had let his fancy
play about his head-dress. Bill had a woman's hat full of cock's
feathers, and all had wild, slouching cowboy brims.

Bert sighed and stood up, deeply thoughtful, and Edna watched him,
marvelling. The women stood quite still. He left the window, and went
out into the passage rather slowly, and with the careworn expression of
a man who gives his mind to a complex and uncertain business. "Edna!" he
called, and when she came he opened the front door.

He asked very simply, and pointing to the foremost of the three, "That
'im?... Sure?"... and being told that it was, shot his rival instantly
and very accurately through the chest. He then shot Bill's best man much
less tidily in the head, and then shot at and winged the third man as he
fled. The third gentleman yelped, and continued running with a comical
end-on twist.

Then Bert stood still meditating, with the pistol in his hand, and quite
regardless of the women behind him.

So far things had gone well.

It became evident to him that if he did not go into politics at once,
he would be hanged as an assassin and accordingly, and without a word
to the women, he went down to the village public-house he had passed an
hour before on his way to Edna, entered it from the rear, and confronted