nything."

"But where on earth did you get the revolver? You hadn't one of your
own."

"Yes, I had, Jim. I brought it with me, and I didn't say anything
because I thought you might laugh or else be angry with me."

"You've certainly shown that you know how to use it," I said dryly.

Something in my voice must have told her what had happened. "What do you
mean?" she asked in a frightened tone. "Did I shoot anyone?"

"Yes," I said slowly. "You pinked me. Right in the shoulder. It's only a
flesh-wound; nothing to worry about."

"I've hurt you and I didn't mean to," she wailed.

I reached out and seized her by the shoulders. "Look here, Moira," I
said with a semblance of sternness in my voice, "you've done a man's
work to-night and it's making you hysterical. Don't let it. Pull
yourself together, for heaven's sake if not for mine."

I think it was just that last bit that brought her round. "I'm sorry,
Jim," she said, though what there was to be sorry about was more than I
could say.

"And now, Moira," I ran on before she had time to say anything more,
"the sooner we finish that interrupted journey to the cave the better.
It's not as good as the hut would be if it was still standing, but it
gives us shelter, and that's the main thing. Also we can light a fire
and sleep the night in peace, now that the gang seems to have been
rubbed out for good."

She made no answer, so I took her arm, and thus we commenced our walk
across the valley. I found the pack without any trouble, though my heart
was in my mouth for fear that we would trip over poor Cumshaw's body.
But the luck was with me that night, though it hadn't been with him, and
I reached the pack and hoisted it on my shoulders without either of us
striking any of the victims of the fight. The sting of the wound in my
shoulder made the pack an uncomfortable burden, but I bore it as best I
could, for I was afraid that Moira would notice me if I kept wriggling
it into an easier position. So I fought the pain all the way to the
cave, which we reached in something under five minutes. Moira did not
speak a word all the way, and somehow I hadn't the heart to break the
news of Cumshaw's death to her. It had to be done sooner or later, I
knew, but I was inclined to put it off as long as possible.

Once in the cave I built a little fire of chips and dry bracken that had
somehow escaped the rain. That done I turned with a clear conscience to
the task of making tea. Moira,