riving closer every instant.

Necia heard the gambler call:

"Sheer off, Doret! You can't land here!"

She saw a gun in Runnion's hand, and a terrible, sickening fear swept
over her, for he was slowly walking down the spit, keeping abreast of
the canoe as it drifted. She could see exactly what would happen: no
man could disembark against the will of an armed marksman, and if
Poleon slackened his stroke, or stopped it to exchange his paddle for a
weapon, the current would carry him past; in addition, he would have to
fire from a rocking paper shell harried by a boiling current, whereas
the other man stood flat upon his feet.

"Keep away or I'll fire!" threatened Runnion again; and she screamed,
"Don't try it, Poleon, he'll kill you!"

At her words Runnion raised his weapon and fired. She heard the woods
behind reverberate with the echoes like a sounding-board, saw the white
spurt of smoke and the skitter of the bullet as it went wide. It was a
long shot, and had been fired as a final warning; but Doret made no
outcry, nor did he cease coming; instead, his paddle clove the water
with the same steady strokes that took every ounce of effort in his
body. Runnion threw open his gun and replaced the spent shell. On came
the careening, crazy craft in a sidewise drift, and with it the girl
saw coming a terrible tragedy. She started to run down the gravelled
ridge behind her enemy, not realizing the value or moment of her
action, nor knowing clearly what she would do; but as she drew near she
saw Runnion raise his gun again, and, without thought of her own
safety, threw herself upon him Again his shot went wide as he strove to
hurl her off, but his former taste of her strength was nothing to this,
now that she fought for Poleon's life. Runnion snarled angrily and
thrust her away, for he had waited till the canoe was close.

"Let me go, you devil!" he cried, and aimed again; but again she ran at
him. This time, however, she did not pit her strength against his, but
paused, and as he undertook to fire she thrust at his elbow, then
dodged out of his way. Her blow was crafty and well-timed, and his shot
went wild. Again he took aim, and again she destroyed it with a touch
and danced out of his reach. She was nimble and light, and quickened
now by a cold calculation of all that depended upon her.

Three times in all she thwarted Runnion, while the canoe drove closer
every instant. On the fourth, as she dashed at him, he struck