"You are wrong," he shouted with convincing vehemence. "But, if you
wish to see for yourself, at least allow me to go first."
While he was speaking, he ran forward. She thought he meant what he
said, and waited for him. Then he caught her right arm firmly in his
left hand.
"Let us wait here a moment or two," he breathed.
"No, no; I am going now. You shall not hold me back. You don't
understand. The man I love is up there, perhaps surrounded by savages.
Let me go, I tell you! If he is dying I shall die by his side. Let me
go! Would you have me strike you?" She turned on him like an angry
goddess, and strove to wrest herself from his grip. At that instant
Tollemache and Frascuelo, the only survivors of the deadly struggle
forward, were driven back by a rush of Indians. They caught sight of
others leaping down the bridge companion.
"To the saloon, Courtenay!" roared Tollemache, clearing a path for
himself with an iron bar which he swung in both hands. Followed by
Frascuelo, he jumped inside the saloon gangway. Four savages followed,
two entering through the doorway behind him.
Pages:
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306