her displeasure, she
felt the ebb of tears which followed the flood of courage. She was
surely and quickly coming back to her own; the normal woman in her was
being reinstated. She knew that she must go, at once, or her next words
would struggle through sobs. Though her face showed naught of it, her
breast was filled with a fearful anxiety, as she watched the effect of
her words. At first the man was stunned. He could not believe his ears.
That anyone, to say nothing of a girl, should come before him and speak
such things, was past his comprehension. He actually blinked at her,
stupidly, as she went on, and his face turned a yellowish gray. But when
she concluded his brutish rage had gained the ascendency.

"You're ready to go home--I guess you are! But I'm not ready to let you
go! You defy me! You dare me! You call me ugly names! I'm not as pretty
as your doctor friend who went regularly every evenin' to see that
married woman back in Jericho! Ha! ha! ha! You don't like that, do you?
But it's true, anyway, I--"

"Let me go--let me go!" sobbed Julia, the strain overcoming her at last,
breaking down the frail fabric of her brave young courage. "You shan't
say such things to me!"

She attempted to urge The Prince on, but the iron grip of Marston held
him.

"Go easy, young lady! Don't hurry!" mocked the monster. "There's more to
tell. I'm saving the choicest morsel of scandal for the last, then I'll
fix this long-legged fellow of yours!"

Julia had purposely delayed bringing her weapon into play, but she saw
now that the time was ripe for her to use it. She drew it from its place
and quickly leveled it at the man.

"Unloose my horse, or I swear I'll shoot!" she said, and Marston,
looking in her eyes, knew that she meant it.

He feinted, dropped the bridle, and pretended to draw aside. But the
next moment he took a rapid step forward, threw up his arm, and sent the
revolver flying through the air. It alighted on the thick grass, without
exploding. It happened that the gaunt hound which had disputed Julia's
passage at the beginning of her call, having finished the roast of beef
in a further corner of the yard, was passing that moment on his way back
to the kitchen porch, his hunger doubtless still unappeased. He was a
brute used to sudden foray and quick brawls, and this movement of his
master towards the horsewoman seemed to him a signal--a call to battle.
So, as Marston deftly disarmed Julia, the dog promptly leape