, and all that
remained now was to sell his life at as punitive a rate as possible.

As he reached under his coat for the automatic pistol which was his
sole remaining dependence, he caught in a sidewise glimpse the face of
Sam Carlyle alias John Blackwell. It wore a sardonic smile and its lips
opened like a trap to shout in a staccato abandonment of disguise. "Git
him, boys! _Git_ him!"

It was palpably enough a signal for which they had been waiting, like
the pack-master's horn casting loose his hounds. Instantly the place
burst into an eruption of confused and frenzied tumult. Henderson had a
momentary sense of unshaven faces with lips drawn over wolfish fangs,
of the pungent reek of gunpowder in his nostrils and, in his ears, the
cracking of pistol reports--as yet sounding only in demonstration.

With a few steps more they would be swarming upon him, as a pack piles
upon its defenseless quarry. But his own weapon spat doggedly, too, and
for the brevity of an instant the rush wavered.

His assailants were crowding each other so hamperingly that the
fusillade from the front was wild and, at first, ineffective. Those at
the fore, cooled by a resolute reception and the sight of one of their
number going down, with a snarl of pain, pressed forcibly back.

For the space of one quick breath, they afforded their victim a
reprieve. He was groping, with his left hand outstretched, against the
wall toward the nearby door, when he felt that arm grow numb and drop
limp at his side. Through his left shoulder darted a sensation hardly
recognized as pain.

The two doors had not been closed. It was unnecessary. Before the
victim should reach either he would be riddled, and even if he gained
one he would fall before he could mount and ride away. Since they had
him at their mercy they could afford to toy with him.

No one saw the figure that had materialized on the threshold to which
all the backs of the yelping crowd were turned. It had come unannounced
from the outer darkness. It stood for a moment looking on and in that
moment understood the only thing necessary to comprehend: that the man
who must be married to-night, was being prematurely assassinated.

From his shadow of concealment at the door, this volunteer in the
conflict thrust forward his rifle. His lean jaws were set and his eyes
were full of a cold and very deadly light. It was the ringing voice of
his repeater that announced him as it launched into the place so