they could look
again they saw a solid wall of red flame, thick, impenetrable,
shuddering with the breath of the wind.

While they stared a stronger breath of that wind tore the wall of
flames apart, driving it back in a raging tide to either side. The
fire had circled the walls of the entire room, but it had scarcely
encroached on the center, and there, seated at the table, was Boone.

He had scarcely changed from the position in which they last saw him,
save that he was fallen somewhat deeper in the chair, his head resting
against the top of the back. He greeted them, through that infernal
furnace, with laughter, and wide, steady eyes. At least it seemed
laughter, for the mouth was agape and the lips grinned back, but there
was no sound from the lips and no light in the fixed eyes.

Laughter indeed it was, but it was the laughter of death, as if the
soul of the man, in dying, recognized its natural wild element and had
burst into convulsive mirth. So he sat there, untouched as yet by the
wide river of fire, chuckling at his destiny. The wall of fire closed
across the doorway again and the work of red ruin went on with a
crashing of timbers from the upper part of the building.

As that living wall shut solidly, Jacqueline leaped forward, shouting,
like a man, words of hope and rescue; Pierre caught her barely in
time--a precarious grasp on the wrist from which she nearly wrenched
herself free and gained the entrance to the fire. But the jerk threw
her off balance for the least fraction of an instant, and the next
moment she was safe in his arms.

Safe? He might as well have held a wildcat, or captured with his bare
hands a wild eagle, strong of talon and beak. She tore and raged in a
wild fury.

"Pierre, coward, devil!"

"Steady, Jack!"

"Are you going to let him die?"

"Don't you see? He's already dead."

"You lie. You only fear the fire!"

"I tell you, McGurk has been here before us."

Her arm was freed by a twisting effort and she beat him furiously
across the face. One blow cut his lip and a steady trickle of hot
blood left a taste of salt in his mouth.

"You young fiend!" he cried, and grasped both her wrists with a
crushing force.

She leaned and gnashed at his hands, but he whirled her about and held
her from behind, impotent, raging still.

"A hundred McGurks could never have killed him!"

There was a sharp explosion from the midst of the fire.

"See! He's fighting against hi