objection. What do you say, Jim?" she asked, looking across to the young
fellow, who had been a sulky, silent spectator of the whole scene.
"Shall we quit for to-night?"

"If you give me back my money," he answered. "That's mine," he said,
pointing to the pile. "It's my money, gentlemen; she's been winning all
the evening."

"Yes, I always do have luck," retorted Katrine. "I told you so when we
began."

"You may call it luck; I don't," muttered the miner, his face turning a
dusky purple.

"And what do you call it?" returned Katrine, white with anger in her
turn at the insinuation, while Talbot, who saw what was coming, tried to
draw her away.

"What does it matter? Come away; leave him the money."

No one in the room noticed what was going on in their corner. The others
were all too busy with their own play, absorbed in their own greed;
besides, squabbles over the tables were of such common occurrence, they
ceased to excite any curiosity.

"I shan't," returned Katrine, shaking herself free.

The oily, smoky light from above fell across her face; it seemed to
bloom through the foul, dusky air like a rose.

"It's my money--I won it."

"Yes, by cheating," shouted the miner, forgetting everything but the
approaching loss he foresaw of the shining pile.

"You lie," said Stephen, hoarsely. "She has not cheated you."

The miner staggered to his feet, and before any of them realised it he
had drawn his pistol and fired. His hand was unsteady from drink and
rage, and the ball passed over Stephen's shoulder and went into the
wall behind him. Talbot tried to draw Stephen to one side. The miner,
blind with anger, half conscious only of what he was about, and drawing
almost at random, turned his revolver on Talbot. Like a flash Katrine
interposed between them, and Jim's bullet found a lodgment in her lungs.
She had fired also. The shots had been simultaneous, and the miner fell,
without a groan, without a murmur, forward across the table, carrying it
with him to the floor. The gold pile scattered amongst the filthy
sawdust on the ground. Katrine sank backwards into Talbot's arms, and
her head fell to his shoulder like that of a tired child falling to
sleep.

In an instant they were surrounded by an eager inquiring throng. All the
tables, with some few exceptions, were deserted; the players all crowded
up to the end of the room, and Stephen and Talbot were carried back to
the wall by the pressing crowd. Some of the