matched his own she drew the
gun. She raised it while her eyes were shut. She lay passive under his
kisses--the devouring kisses of one whose manhood had been denied the
sweetness, the glory, the fire, the life of woman's lips. It was a
moment in which she met his primitive fury of possession with a woman's
primitive fury of profanation. She pressed the gun against his side and
pulled the trigger.

A thundering, muffled, hollow boom! The odor of burned powder stung
her nostrils. Kells's hold on her tightened convulsively, loosened
with strange, lessening power. She swayed back free of him, still with
tight-shut eyes. A horrible cry escaped him--a cry of mortal agony. It
wrenched her. And she looked to see him staggering amazed, stricken, at
bay, like a wolf caught in cruel steel jaws. His hands came away from
both sides, dripping with blood. They shook till the crimson drops
spattered on the wall, on the boughs. Then he seemed to realize and he
clutched at her with these bloody hands.

"God Almighty!" he panted. "You shot me!... You--you girl!... You
she-cat... You knew--all the time... You she-cat!... Give me--that gun!"

"Kells, get back! I'll kill you!" she cried. The big gun, outstretched
between them, began to waver.

Kells did not see the gun. In his madness he tried to move, to reach
her, but he could not; he was sinking. His legs sagged under him, let
him down to his knees, and but for the wall he would have fallen. Then a
change transformed him. The black, turgid, convulsed face grew white and
ghastly, with beads of clammy sweat and lines of torture. His strange
eyes showed swiftly passing thought--wonder, fear, scorn--even
admiration.

"Joan, you've done--for me!" he gasped. "You've broken my back!... It'll
kill me! Oh the pain--the pain! And I can't stand pain! You--you
girl! You innocent seventeen-year-old girl! You that couldn't hurt any
creature! You so tender--so gentle!... Bah! you fooled me. The cunning
of a woman! I ought--to know. A good woman's--more terrible than
a--bad woman.... But I deserved this. Once I used--to be.... Only, the
torture!... Why didn't you--kill me outright?... Joan--Randle--watch
me--die! Since I had--to die--by rope or bullet--I'm glad you--you--did
for me.... Man or beast--I believe--I loved you!"

Joan dropped the gun and sank beside him, helpless, horror-stricken,
wringing her hands. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that he drove
her to it, that he must let her p