Page:Randall Parrish - The Red Mist.djvu/182

 166 and buried her face in her hands. All that was strong about the girl seemed swept away by sudden, uncontrollable terror—by dread of Anse Cowan. While there appeared to be some hope of escape her courage had sustained her, but now, all at once, it gave way entirely, leaving her in a perfect panic of fear. I realized fully the nature of this threat which had broken her spirit. She was no less womanly, no less worthy respect and love, in her shrinking of terror. It was not death she dreaded, nor any physical danger—it was dishonor; the contaminating touch of a brutal hand, the foul insult of a dirty cur. But what could I say? What could I do? I stood helpless, uncertain, unable even to find words of encouragement. No thought, no plan occurred to me—only to defend her while I lived. A hoarse, strange voice roared out an order, seemingly from the very foot of the stairs.

"That's enough of that, Samuels! Here, take your men up above. Be lively now, and don't let a rat get away."

The girl lifted her head; then got to her feet clinging to the bed-post. I could see the glitter of a pistol in her hand. A thought swept through my brain—so daring, so reckless, I gasped at the mere wildness of the suggestion. Yet it might answer; it might succeed! But would she consent; even in