e while he was borne from the battle-field to
the dim recesses of the forest by his uncontrolled and affrighted
beast.

But the gambler paid a high price for these successes--far higher
than he could really afford. Four times more he was badly hit. Four
times the hot slither of burning lead plowed its way amidst the
life-channels of his body. And his retreat to cover was something
almost in the nature of collapse.

But the spirit of the man admitted of no weakening. It rose dominant
over all physical sensation. He thrust aside the cognizance of his
hurts, and abandoned himself solely to his purpose. James was still
in the saddle, and the sight of his hated personality consumed him
with rage and disgust at the failure of his first attempt.

"Still around. Still around," he muttered. And in a moment the battle
was surging once more.

No longer was the leader of the attack moved by the irresponsible
bravado of his first attack. He was a raging savage, goaded by the
desperate wounds he had received, and the knowledge that he and all
his force were being held at bay by one man. So he charged again, a
headlong rush, howling as he came at the head of his four remaining
supporters.

They came like an avalanche, their voices making hideous the rapidly
falling night, while the wounded defender waited, waited, all his
purpose concentrated, husbanding his ebbing strength as a starving man
might husband the last crumbs of food. He knew that not only his
strength, but his very life was slowly ebbing in the red tide that was
fast saturating every shred of his clothing.

Again they reached the cart. Again the maddened horses were driven
head on to the dreaded fortress. And instantly their quarry rose to
his full height, a grim specter thrilling with a murderous purpose,
his arms outstretched, his guns held low, that there should be no
mistake this time.

The crash of battle was appalling. The scene was almost lost in the
smoke cloud which hung over it. There was fire and cross-fire. There
were exultant shouts and cries of pain. And through it all the
scuttling of rushing hoofs and champing bits. A moment and the
defender dropped. But instantly he rose again, gripping in his nervous
hands the butts of a pair of fresh guns snatched from his foot-box.
Nor did he stir foot again, nor relax a muscle, till every one of the
twelve chambers was emptied.

Then, with an oath that carried with it all the pent-up hatred of a
bitter hea