Beth Norvell

There was a flash of something white and glittering within six inches

of his face, a sharp click, and an eye looked directly into his own

across a short steel barrel.

"Go!" The word was like the spat of a bullet.

"But, Lizzie--"

"Go, you cur! or, as God is my witness, if you stay I'll kill you!"

With a sharp dig of the spur his horse sprang half-way across the road,

a black, prancing shadow against the glare of light. She saw the rider

fling up one arm, and bring down the stinging quirt on the animal's

flank; the next instant, with a bound, they were swallowed up in the

darkness. A moment she leaned against the shack, nerveless, half

fainting from reaction, her face deathly white. Then she inhaled a

long, deep breath, gathered her skirts closely within one hand, and

plunged boldly into the black alley.