ane. But a question dominated all: could she carry out her threat
to kill Chavis, if he took the step?

She knew she would. For in this crisis she had discovered one of nature's
first laws. She had never understood, before, but in the last few minutes
knowledge had come to her like a burst of light in the darkness. And a
voice came to her also--Randerson's; she mentally repeated the words he
had spoken on the day he had told her about the rustlers: "I reckon you'd
fight like a tiger, ma'am, if the time ever come when you had to."

Yes, she would fight. Not as a tiger would fight, but as Randerson
himself had fought--not with a lust to do murder, but in self-protection.
And in this instant the spirit of Randerson seemed to stand beside her,
applauding her, seeming to whisper words of encouragement to her. And she
caught something of his manner when danger threatened; his cold
deliberation, his steadiness of hand and eye, his grim alertness. For she
had unconsciously studied him in the few minutes preceding the death of
Pickett, and she was as unconsciously imitating him now.

Her thoughts ceased, however, when she saw Chavis grin at her, mockingly.

"It's a bluff!" he said. "You couldn't hit the ground, if you had a-hold
of the gun with both hands!" He moved slightly, measuring the distance
between them.

Plainly, she saw from his actions, from his tensed muscles, her threat
would not stop him. She was very pale, and her breast heaved as though
from a hard run; Chavis could hear the sound of her breathing as he set
himself for a leap; but her lips were pressed tightly together, her eyes
glowed and widened as she followed the man's movements. She was going to
kill; she had steeled her mind to that. And when she saw the man's
muscles contract for the rush that he hoped would disconcert her, she
fired, coolly and deliberately.

With the deafening roar of the weapon in her ears, a revulsion, swift,
sickening, overcame her. The report reverberated hideously; she seemed to
hear a thousand of them. And the smoke billowed around her, strong,
pungent. Through it she saw Chavis stagger, clap one hand to his chest
and tumble headlong, face down, at her feet. The interior of the cabin
whirled in mad circles; the floor seemed to be rising to meet her, and
she sank to it, the six-shooter striking the bare boards with a thud that
sounded to her like a peal of thunder. And then oblivion, deep and
welcome, descended.

Coming down