r arrest, sir! Corporal
Truman, take Ensign Shields' sword!"

The young man was quickly disarmed, and once more the captain
vociferated:

"Knock down and disarm that vixen! Obey your orders, villains! Or by
h--l, and all its fiends, I'll have you all court-martialed, and shot
before to-morrow noon!"

The soldiers closed around the unprotected girl.

"Lord, all merciful! forgive my sins," she prayed, and with a firm hand
pulled the trigger!

It did not respond to her touch--it failed! it failed!

Casting the traitorous weapon from her, she sunk upon her knees,
murmuring:

"Lost--lost--all is lost!" remained crushed, overwhelmed, awaiting her
fate!

"Ha! ha! ha! as pretty a little make-believe as ever I saw!" laughed the
brutal Thorg, now perfectly at his ease, and gloating over her beauty,
and helplessness, and, deadly terror. "As pretty a little sham as ever I
saw!"

"It was no sham! She couldn't sham! I drawed out the shot unbeknownst to
her! I wish, I does, my fingers had shriveled and dropped off afore they
ever did it!" exclaimed Oliver, in a passion of remorse, as he ran
forward, rake in hand.

He was quickly thrown down and disarmed--no one had any hesitation in
dealing with him.

"Now then, my fair!" said Thorg, moving toward his victim.

Edith was now wild with desperation--her eyes flew wildly around in
search of help, where help there seemed none. Then she turned with the
frenzied impulse of flying.

But the men surrounded to cut off her retreat.

"Nay, nay, let her run! Let her run! Give her a fair start, and do you
give chase! It will be the rarest sport! Fox-hunting is a good thing,
but girl-chasing must be the very h--l of sport, when I tell you--mind,
I tell you, men--she shall be the exclusive prize of him who catches
her!" swore the remorseless Thorg.

Edith had gained the back door.

They started in pursuit.

"Now, by the living Lord that made me, the first man that lays hands on
her shall die!" suddenly exclaimed the young ensign, wresting his sword
from the hand of the corporal, springing between Edith and her pursuers,
flashing out the blade, and brandishing it in the faces of the foremost.

He was but a stripling, scarcely older than Edith's self--the arm that
wielded that slender blade scarcely stronger than Edith's own--but the
fire that flashed from the eagle eye showed a spirit to rescue or die in
her defense.

Thorg threw himself into the most frantic fury--a volley