she
went like er hummin' bird, skitch!--jes' thet way--an' I didn't see 'r
no more. 'Cause I was skeert mighty nigh inter seven fits; 'spect that
'splosion blowed her clean away! Ventrebleu! never was so plum outen
breath an' dead crazy weak o' bein' afeard!"

"Lieutenant Beverley," roared Clark in his most commanding tone, "go to
the gate and settle things there. That mob outside is trying to break
in!"

The order was instantly obeyed, but Beverley had relapsed. Once more
his soul groped in darkness, while the whole of his life seemed unreal,
a wavering, misty, hollow dream. And yet his military duty was all real
enough. He knew just what to do when he reached the gate.

"Back there at once!" he commanded, not loudly, but with intense force,
"back there!" This to the inward surging wedge of excited outsiders.
Then to the guard.

"Shoot the first man who crosses the line!"

"Ziff! me voici! moi! Gaspard Roussillon. Laissez-moi passer,
messieurs."

A great body hurled itself frantically past Beverley and the guard,
going out through the gateway against the wall of the crowd, bearing
everything before it and shouting:

"Back, fools! you'll all be killed--the powder is on fire! Ziff! run!"

Wild as a March hare, he bristled with terror and foamed at the mouth.
He stampeded the entire mass. There was a wild howl; a rush in the
other direction followed, and soon enough the esplanade and all the
space back to the barricades and beyond were quite deserted.

Alice was not aware that a serious accident had happened. Naturally she
thought the great, rattling, crashing noise of the explosion a mere
part of the spectacular show. When the rush followed, separating her
and Beverley, it was a great relief to her in some way; for a sudden
recognition of the boldness of her action in the little scene just
ended, came over her and bewildered her. An impulse sent her running
away from the spot where, it seemed to her, she had invited public
derision. The terrible noises all around her were, she now fancied, but
the jeering and hooting of rude men who had seen her unmaidenly
forwardness.

With a burning face she flew to the postern and slipped out, once more
taking the course which had become so familiar to her feet. She did not
slacken her speed until she reached the Bourcier cabin, where she had
made her home since the night when Hamilton's pistol ball struck her.
The little domicile was quite empty of its household, but Ali