r and twisted his head upward with
a power which he could not resist. And so, looking into his upturned,
ferocious eyes, she repeated with remorseless fury: "_Let go_, I say!"

His swollen face grew rigid, his mouth gaped, his tongue protruded, and
at last, releasing his hold on his victim, he rose, flinging Berrie off
with a final desperate effort. "I'll kill you, too!" he gasped.

Up to this moment the girl had felt no fear of herself; but now she
resorted to other weapons. Snatching her pistol from its holster, she
leveled it at his forehead. "Stop!" she said; and something in her voice
froze him into calm. He was not a fiend; he was not a deliberate
assassin; he was only a jealous, despairing, insane lover, and as he
looked into the face he knew so well, and realized that nothing but hate
and deadly resolution lit the eyes he had so often kissed, his heart gave
way, and, dropping his head, he said: "Kill me if you want to. I've
nothing left to live for."

There was something unreal, appalling in this sudden reversion to
weakness, and Berrie could not credit his remorse. "Give me your gun,"
she said.

He surrendered it to her and she threw it aside; then turned to Wayland,
who was lying white and still with face upturned to the sky. With a moan
of anguish she bent above him and called upon his name. He did not stir,
and when she lifted his head to her lap his hair, streaming with blood,
stained her dress. She kissed him and called again to him, then turned
with accusing frenzy to Belden: "You've killed him! Do you hear? You've
killed him!"

The agony, the fury of hate in her voice reached the heart of the
conquered man. He raised his head and stared at her with mingled fear and
remorse. And so across that limp body these two souls, so lately lovers,
looked into each other's eyes as though nothing but words of hate and
loathing had ever passed between them. The girl saw in him only a savage,
vengeful, bloodthirsty beast; the man confronted in her an accusing
angel.

"I didn't mean to kill him," he muttered.

"Yes, you did! You meant it. You crushed his life out with your big
hands--and now I'm going to kill you for it!"

A fierce calm had come upon her. Some far-off ancestral deep of passion
called for blood revenge. She lifted the weapon with steady hand and
pointed it at his heart.

His fear passed as his wrath had passed. His head drooped, his glance
wavered. "Shoot!" he commanded, sullenly. "I'd sooner