sh
tracks along the Palace Road, and the smoke that curled steadily from
scattered chimney-pots and the bivouac fires on the Citadel Square might
be taken as evidence that the suspension of social activities was only
temporary. But for the present, at least, Constans had the city to
himself, and he wandered about as he chose without a thought of
possible danger.

An anxiously longed-for discovery was the reward of one of these lonely
excursions. In a shop that had once been devoted to the sale of
fire-arms, Constans found a quantity of ammunition of a caliber that
would fit the chambers of his revolver. The cartridges had been packed
in hermetically sealed cases, presumably for export-shipment or upon a
special order. However that might be, the precaution had prevented the
deterioration of the powder, and the ammunition was consequently, in
condition for use. Constans nerved himself to make the experiment, but
although his studies had made him well acquainted with the theory of the
explosive projectile, he had to summon all his resolution for the actual
pulling of the trigger.

The detonation that followed startled him out of his self-possession. He
dropped the pistol, and was out of the shop and half way across the
street before he could recover himself. Then, ashamed of his cowardice,
he forced himself to pick up the weapon and went forward to examine the
two-inch plank at which he had taken aim. To his astonishment and
delight he saw that a hole had been drilled clean through the solid oak
and the bullet itself was lying on the ground, flattened from its impact
with the masonry behind the planking. All this, let it be said again,
was perfectly familiar to Constans in theory, but its realization in
fact gave him a strange thrill. A score of men armed with these large
caliber pistols, or, better still, rifles, might easily enough compel
the surrender or bring about the destruction of the entire fighting
force of the Doomsmen.

Inspired by this new thought, Constans made a thorough examination of
the stock of arms in the shop. To his disappointment he found most of
the rifles in unserviceable condition, covered with rust and verdigris.
Finally, however, he came across a dozen carbines carefully wrapped and
packed for a prospective shipment across the ocean. Protected by their
heavy coverings the weapons had suffered comparatively little damage,
and Constans spent the best part of a week in cleaning them and getting