again,
viciously, and the other collapsed into a still, awkwardly huddled heap
on the floor. The revolver dropped from his fingers and struck against
Thurston's foot, making him wince.

Thurston had never before seen death come to a man, and the very
suddenness of it unnerved him. All his faculties were numbed before that
terrible, pitiless form in the door, and the limp, dead body at his feet
in the aisle. He did not even remember that here was the savage
local color he had come far a-seeking. He quite forgot to improve the
opportunity by making mental note of all the little, convincing details,
as was his wont.

Presently he awoke to the realization of certain words spoken
insistently close beside him. He turned his eyes and saw that the girl,
her eyes staring straight before her, her slim, brown hands uplifted,
was yet commanding him imperiously, her voice holding to that murmuring
monotone more discreet than a whisper.

"The gun--drop down--and get it. He can't see to shoot for the seat in
front. Get the gun. Get the gun!" was what she was saying.

Thurston looked at her helplessly, imploringly. In truth, he had never
fired a gun in all his peaceful life.

"The gun--get it--and shoot!" Her eyes moved quickly in a cautious,
side-long glance that commanded impatiently. Her straight eyebrows drew
together imperiously. Then, when he met her eyes with that same helpless
look, she said another word that hurt. It was "Coward!"

Thurston looked down at the gun, and at the huddled form. A tiny river
of blood was creeping toward him. Already it had reached his foot, and
his shoe was red along the sole. He moved his foot quickly away from it,
and shuddered.

"Coward!" murmured the girl contemptuously again, and a splotch of anger
showed under the tan of her cheek.

Thurston caught his breath and wondered if he could do it; he looked
toward the door and thought how far it was to send a bullet straight
when a man has never, in all his life, fired a gun. And without looking
he could see that horrible, red stream creeping toward him like some
monster in a nightmare. His flesh crimpled with physical repulsion, but
he meant to try; perhaps he could shoot the man in the mask, so that
there would be another huddled, lifeless Thing on the floor, and another
creeping red stream.

At that instant the tawny-haired young fellow beside the girl gathered
himself for a spring, flung himself headlong before her and into the
aisle;