close to him, and she had a vivid
recollection of Taggart releasing her and staggering back without
uttering a sound. She caught a glimpse of his face as he sank to the
floor; there was a gaping hole in his forehead and his eyes were set
and staring with an expression of awful horror and astonishment. Then
the kitchen darkened, she felt the floor rising to meet her, and she
knew no more.

CHAPTER XXIII

FOR THE ALTARS OF HIS TRIBE

The first sound that Betty heard when consciousness began to return to
her was a loud pounding at the kitchen door.

She had fallen to the floor just beneath the shelf on which the lamp
sat, and she raised herself on an elbow and looked around. At first
she did not remember what had happened, and then she saw Taggart, lying
face upward on the floor near her, the frightful hole in his forehead,
and she shuddered as recollection in a sickening flood came to her.
Bob, dear Bob, had not failed her.

She got up, trembling a little, breathing a prayer of thankfulness,
shrinking from the Thing that lay on the floor at her feet with its
horror-stricken eyes staring straight up at the ceiling, making her way
to the kitchen door, for the pounding had grown louder and more
insistent, and she could hear a voice calling hoarsely to her.

But it did not seem to be Bob's voice; it was deeper and more resonant,
and vibrated clearly, strongly, and with passion. It was strangely
familiar, though, and she shook a little with a nameless anxiety and
anticipation as she fumbled at the fastenings of the door and swung it
open.

It was not Bob, but Calumet, who stepped in. One of his heavy pistols
was in his right hand; with the left he had helped her to swing the
door open, and he stood, for the first brief instant following his
entrance, his arms extended, gazing sharply at Taggart. Then, quickly,
apparently satisfied that he need have no concern for his enemy, he
turned to Betty, placed both hands on her shoulders--the heavy pistol
in his right resting on her--she felt the warmth of the barrel as it
touched the thin material of her dress and knew then that it had been
he who had fired the shot that had been the undoing of her
assailant--and holding her away from him a little peered searchingly at
her.

[Illustration: Calumet stepped in.]

His face was pale, his lips stiff and white, and his eyes were alight
with the wanton fire that she had seen in them many times, though now
there was s