lever back, threw the speed out full, and crouched low in the bottom of the car front. She knew that somebody was clubbing at the seat above her with a musket-end. She could hear the guns of the Laminian's sentries giving the alarm. Then she closed her eyes, and crouched lower, for she knew the car was under way.
It had some fifteen or sixteen feet of headway before it struck the huge pine door that barred the tracks. There was a sudden rending and splintering of pine, a crunching of wood, and the car had gone through the door like a hound through a paper hoop.
McKinnon swung up beside her as the door went down. He was astride her body almost, fighting and panting, for a swarthy-faced Locombian was on the car-step, making frenzied thrusts at her with his carbine-end. Another was on the cartridge-boxes, and he shot once, scorching the operator's face with his powder-flash as it passed him. He had no time for a second shot, for McKinnon's hand went up and his revolver barked. The carbine fell forward into the seat between them. The Locombian himself rolled sideways, to the left, with a howl of pain. He staggered to his feet, swayed there a second, and then toppled backward over the boxes, and fell from the car.
