points of light. Once
more the cry. He raised his arms and waited.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE CROSS GOES ON

So Mary, running through the wilderness of boulders, was guided
straight and found Pierre, and before the morning came, they were
journeying east side by side, east and down to the cities of culture
and a new life; but Jacqueline, a thousand times quicker of foot and
surer of eye and ear, missed her goal, went past it, and still on and
on, running finally at a steady trot.

Until at last she knew that she had far overstepped her mark and sank
down against one of the rocks to rest and think out what next she must
do. There seemed nothing left. Even the sound of a gun fired she
might not hear, for that sharp call would not travel far against the
wind.

It was while she sat there, burying Pierre in her thoughts, a white
shape came glimmering down to her through the moonlight. She was on
her feet at once, alert and gun in hand. It could only be one horse,
only one rider, McGurk coming down from his last killing with the sneer
on his pale lips. Well, he would complete his work this night and kill
her fighting face to face.

A man's death; that was all she craved. She rose; she stepped boldly
out into the center of the trail between the rocks.

There she saw the greatest wonder she had ever looked on. It was
McGurk walking with bare, bowed head, and after him, like a dog after
the master, followed the white horse. She shoved the revolver back
into the holster. This should be a fair fight.

"McGurk!"

Very slowly the head went up and back, and there he stood, not ten
paces from her, with the white moon full on his face. The sneer was
still there; the eyelid fluttered in scornful derision. And the heart
of Jacqueline came thundering in her throat.

But she cried in a strong voice: "McGurk, d'you know me?"

He did not answer.

"You murderer, you night-rider! Look again: it's the last of the
Boones!"

The sneer, it seemed to her, grew bitterer, but still the man did not
speak. Then the thought of Pierre, lying dead somewhere among the
rocks, burned across her mind. Her hand leaped for the revolver, and
whipped it out in a blinding flash to cover him, but with her finger
curling on the trigger she checked herself in the nick of time. McGurk
had made no move to protect himself.

A strange feeling came to her that perhaps the man would not war
against women; the case of Mary was almost pro