CHAPTER XXX
"OUT INTO THE FORESTS … ALL BY OURSELVES"
AND yonder, sweeping over the near ridge on a big bay horse, looking to Beatrice's eager eyes like a veritable god of the dawn, came Bill Steele. Almost the first thing she saw was the glint of light upon something in his hand.
Then she saw only the door jerked shut, barred by Embry's quick fingers, Embry himself in front of her, his revolver in his hand, his eyes full of fury.
"I'll kill him," he snapped viciously, "and swear I came upon him manhandling you … the fool!"
"Bill! Bill Steele!" cried Beatrice loudly. And did not even know that she had called out.
A great rattle of loose stones, the hammering thud of his horse's flying hoofs and Bill Steele had thrown himself to the ground in front of the door, shouting:
"Open, Embry! Open, I tell you!"
The report of the gun in Embry's hand, the slow smoke curling upward from the barrel, was Embry's answer. Beatrice saw the splinters fly from the door and stood rigid, her breathing stilled.
Again Embry fired, and again and again. Beatrice cried out softly with each shot so that her voice was like a strange faint echo to each burst of exploding powder. Steele would be killed … Oh, dear God,
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