l right. I'll get it. But the money can
wait. Open the door!"

"Dale," she said, as steadily as she could, "if you try to get in here
I shall kill you!"

"That's good," he laughed; "you threw your gun at me. It hit me, too.
Besides if you had a gun you'd be lettin' it off now--this door ain't
so thick that a bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!"

Again there came a silence. She heard Dale walking about in the
kitchen. She heard him place a chair near the wall which divided the
pantry from the kitchen, and then for the first time she realized that
the partition did not reach entirely to the ceiling; that it rose to a
height only a few feet above her head.

She heard Dale laugh, triumphantly, at just the instant she looked at
the top of the partition, and she saw one of Dale's legs come over. It
dangled there for a second; then the man's head and shoulders appeared,
with his hands gripping the top of the wall.

She began to tear at the barricade she had erected, and had only
succeeded in partially demolishing it, when Dale swung his body over
the wall and dropped lightly beside her.

She fought him with the only weapons she had, her hands, not waiting
for him to advance on her, but leaping at him in a fury and striking
his face with her fists, as she had seen men strike others.

He laughed, deeply, scornfully, as her blows landed, mocking her
impotent resistance. Twice he seized her hands and swept them brutally
to her sides, where he held them--trying to grip them in one of his;
but she squirmed free and fought him again, clawing at his eyes.

The nails of her fingers found his cheek, gashing it deeply. The pain
from the hurt made him furious.

"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" he cursed. And in an access of
bestial rage he tore her hands from his face, crushed them to her
sides, wrenching them cruelly, until she cried out in agony.

Then, his face hideous, he seized her by the shoulders and crushed her
against the outside wall, so that her head struck it and she sagged
forward into his arms, unconscious.

The lock on Barney Owen's rifle had jammed just as Dale entered the
room, following the rush of the men to the outside door. He had
selected Dale as his target.

He tried for a fatal instant to work the lock, saw his error, and swung
the weapon over his head in an attempt to brain the man nearest him.
The man dodged and the rifle slipped from Owen's hands and went
clattering to the floo