Page:Barbour--Joan of the ilsand.djvu/68

 ITH a curious shiver, Joan put her revolver back into its holster. The danger was over, for the present. She realized now with a faint sense of dismay that she had fired a dozen shots in the hope of killing or at least injuring a fellow mortal. Squeamishness, however, in such a case, was, she realized, foolish. When one is attacked self-defense needs no apology. The adventure had been wildly exciting, especially at the moment when Moniz had seemed to have all the advantage of strategic position, but she was glad the thing was over. The Kestrel was running before the breeze for Tao Tao.

"I must say I take my hat off to you, Miss Trent," Keith said quietly, regarding her with respect. "I didn't once notice your hand shake."

"She's a well plucked 'un," the girl's brother observed. "The longer I live here the more I wish she had better opportunities of showing her grit than when she's up against a lot of niggers."

Joan did not speak. Fighting blacks with firearms was not one of the pursuits to which she was 56