red his appeal in the
name of Christ. And in His name the little bell-mistress responded.

When she had used the blue kerchief at her neck for a tourniquet and had
checked the hemorrhage, he was still patiently awaiting a better
opportunity to employ his knife. It would not do to bungle the affair. And
he thought he knew how it could be properly done--if he could get her head
in the crook of his muscular elbow.

"Lift me, dear ministering angel," he whispered weakly.

She stooped impulsively, hesitated, then, suddenly terrified at the
blazing ferocity in his eyes, she shrank back at the same instant that his
broad knife flashed in her very face.

He was on his feet at a bound, and, as she raised her voice in a startled
cry for help, he plunged heavily at her, but slipped and fell in his own
blood. Then the clattering jingle of spurred boots on the stone stairs
below caught his ear. He was trapped, and he realized it. He slowly got to
his feet.

As Smith and Glenn appeared, springing out of the low-arched door, the
muleteer Braun turned and faced them.

There was a silence, then Glenn said, bitterly:

"It's you, is it, you dirty Dutchman!"

"Hands up!" said Smith quietly. "Come on, now; it's a case of 'Kamerad'
for yours."

Braun did not move to comply with the demand. Gradually it dawned on them
that the man was game.

"Maryette!" he called; "where are you?"

Smith said curiously:

"What do you want with her, Braun?"

"I want to speak to her."

"Come over here, Maryette," said Glenn sullenly.

The girl crept out of the shadows. Her face was ghastly.

Braun looked at her with pallid scorn:

"You little, ignorant fool," he said, "I'd have made you a better lover
than you'll ever have now!"

He shrugged his square shoulders in contempt, turned without a glance at
Smith and Glenn, and stepped outward into space. And as he fell there
between sky and earth, hurtling downward under the stars, Glenn's pistol
flashed twice, killing his quarry in midair while falling.

"Can you beat it?" he demanded hoarsely, turning on Smith. "Ain't that me
all over!--soft-hearted enough to do that skunk a kindness thataway!"

But his youthful voice was shaking, and he stared at the edge of the
abyss, listening to the far tumult now arising from the street below.

"Did you shoot?" he inquired, controlling his nervous voice with an
effort.

"Naw," said Smith disgustedly. "... Now, Maryette, put one arm around my
neck,