Some one fired once
through the jagged opening, and an exultant yell followed from without.
"No firing!" the voice was Mendez's rising sharply above the other
sounds. "I don't want the girl shot, you fools. Take that other log
around to the window. They'll surrender fast enough once we're inside.
Now, another one. Here, five of you swing her!"
Stella touched Cavendish's sleeve.
"Show me how to load, please," she urged feverishly. "I've fired two
shots already."
His gun rested across the rude barricade, and he left it there, seizing
the revolver from her hand.
"You have never handled one before?"
"No; not like this. Oh, I see; you press that spring. I can do that.
You have the belt with the revolver cartridges--fasten it about my
waist; quick! The door is almost down."
"Rest your barrel on the edge of the bed," he muttered, gripping the
shotgun again, "and aim at that door. The instant you see one of those
devils, give it to him."
With a crash the remaining wood gave way, the end of the log, used as a
battering ram, projecting into the room.
Pages:
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353