She arrived breathless, distraught, instantly to drag me down beside her, from where I stood stupidly .  
“Keep out of sight,” she panted. And—“Oh, why did you do it? Why did you? I think you killed him—they’ll never forgive. They’ll call it treachery. You’re lost, lost.”
 
“But he sha’n’t have you,” I gabbled. “Let them kill me if they can. Till then you’re mine. Mine! Don’t you understand? I want you.”
 
“I don’t understand,” she . She turned frightened face upon me. “You should have let me go. Nothing can save you now; not even I. You’ve ruined the one chance you had. I wonder why. It was my own choice—you had no hand in it, and it was my own chance, too.” Her voice broke, her eyes welled piteously. “But you fired on him.”
 
“That was the only answer left me,” I . “You misjudged me, you shamed me. I tell you——”
 
Her lips slightly curled.
 
“Misjudged you? Shamed you? Was that all? You’ve misjudged and shamed me for so long——” A burst of renewed interrupted. “They’re coming!” She knelt up, to peer; I peered. The Indians had , leaving the chief lying upon the ground, their fierce glaring at our . How clear their figures were, in the sunshine, against the lazy yellowish sand, under the peaceful blue! “They’ll surround us. I might for myself, but I can do nothing for you.”
 
“Parley, then,” I bade. “Save yourself, any way you can.”
 
She drew in, whitening as if I had struck her.
 
“And you accuse me of having misjudged you! I save myself—merely myself? What do you intend to do? Fight?”
 
“As long as you are with me; and after. They’ll never take me alive; and take you they shall not if I can prevent it. Damn them, if they get you I mean to make them pay for you. You’re all I have.”
 
“You’d rather I’d stay? You need me? Could I help?”
 
“Need you!” I . “I’m just finding out, too late.”
 
“And help? How? Quick! Could I?”
 
“By staying; by not surrendering yourself—your honor, my honor. By saying that you’d rather stay with me, for life, for death, here, anywhere—after I’ve said that I’m not deaf, blind, dumb, ungrateful. I love you; I’d rather die for you than live without you.”
 
Such a glory glowed in her haggard face and shone from her brimming eyes.
 
“We will fight, we will fight!” she chanted. “Now I shall not leave you. Oh, my man! Had you kissed me last night we would have known this longer. We have so little time.” She turned from my lips. “Not now. They’re coming. Fight first; and at the end, then kiss me, please, and we’ll go together.”
 
The furious yells from that world outside vibrated among our rocks. The Sioux all were in motion, except the figure of the chief. Straight they charged, at headlong , to ride over us like a wave, and the dull drumming of their ponies’ beat a diapason to the clamor of their voices. It was enough to cow, but she .
 
“You must fire,” she said. “Hurry! Fire once, maybe twice, to split them. I don’t think they’ll rush us, yet.”
 
So I rose farther on my knees and fired once—and again, pointblank at them with the heavy Colt’s. It worked a miracle. Every mother’s son of them fell flat upon his ; they all to right and to left as if the bullets had them apart in the center; and while I , wondering, they swept past at long range, half on either flank, in bullet and near-spent arrow.
 
She forced me down.
 
“Low, low,” she warned. “They’ll circle. They hold their scalps dearly. We can only wait. That was three. You have fifteen shots left, for them; then, one for me, one for you. You understand?”
 
“I understand,” I replied. “And if I’m disabled——?”
 
She answered quietly.
 
“It will be the same. One for you, one for me.”
 
The circle had been formed: a double circle, to move in two directions, ring reversed within scudding ring, the bowmen . Around and ’round and ’round they , yelling, , , shooting so that the air was in a constant hum and swish. The lead and , the and clattered——
 
“Are you sorry I shot the chief?” I asked. Amid the confusion my blood was coursing evenly, and I was not afraid. Of what avail was fear?
 
“I’m glad, glad,” she proclaimed. But with sudden movement she was gone, bending low, then crawling, then whisking from sight. Had she abandoned me, after all? Had she—no! God be thanked, here she came back, flushed and , a canteen in her hand.
 
“The might break,” she explained, short of breath. “This canteen is full. We’ll need it. The other is . I couldn’t touch her.”
 
At the moment I thought how wise and brave and beautiful she was! Mine for the hour, here—and after? Montoyo should never have her; not in life nor in death.
 
“You must stop some of those fiends from closer,” she counseled. “See? They’re trying us out.”
 
More and more frequently some one of the enemy sharply, tore in toward us, hanging upon the farther side of his horse; boldly jerked and shot, and with demi-volt of his mount was away, .
 
I had been saving the , to out this hour of mine with her. Every note from the revolver summoned the end a little nearer. But we had our game to play; and after all, the end was certain. So under her prompting (she being partner, commander, everything), when the next painted ruffian—a burly fellow in drapery of flannel-fringed cotton shirt, with on his pony’s mane—bore down, I guessed shrewdly, arose and let him have it.
 
She cried out, clapping her hands.
 
“Good! Good!”
 
The pony was and kicking; the rider had hurtled free, and went jumping and like a jack-rabbit.
 
“To the right! Watch!”
 
Again I needs must fire, driving the aside with the report of the Colt’s. That was five. Not sparing my wounded arm I hastily reloaded, for by custom of the country the hammer had rested over an empty . I filled the .
 
“They’re the mules,” she said. “But we can’t help it.”
 
The two mules were snorting and ; their hoofs rang against the rocks. Sioux to rear had dismounted and were shooting carefully. There was shout—one mule had broken loose. She galloped out, reddened, stirrups swinging, canteen bouncing, right into the waiting line; and down she lunged, abristle with feathered points launched into her by sheer spiteful joy.
 
The firing was resumed. We heard the other mule scream with note indescribable; we heard him flounder and kick; and again the yelled.
 
Now they all charged recklessly from the four sides; and I had to stand and fire, right, left, before, behind, emptying the gun once more ere they and fled. I sensed her fingers at my belt, extracting fresh . We sank, breathing hard. Her eyes were wide, and bluer than any deepest summer sea; her face aflame; her hair of purest gold—and upon her shoulder a challenging oriflamme of , staining a rent in the faded calico.
 
“You’re hurt!” I , aghast.
 
“Not much. A scratch. Don’t mind it. And you?”
 
“I’m not touched.”
 
“Load, sir. But I think we’ll have a little space. How many left? Nine.” She had been counting. “Seven for them.”
 
“Seven for them,” I acknowledged. I tucked home the loads; the six-shooter was ready.
 
“Now let them come,” she murmured.
 
“Let them come,” I echoed. We looked one upon the other, and we smiled. It was not so bad, this place, our minds having been made up to it. In fact, there was something sweet. Our present was assured; we faced a future together, at least; we were in accord.
 
The Sioux had , mainly to sit dismounted in close circle, for a confab. Occasionally a young brave, a vidette, galloped for us, dared us, shook hand and weapon at us, no doubt at us, and gained nothing by his .
 
“What will they do next?” I asked.
 
“I don’t know,” said she. “We shall see, though.”
 
So we lay, gazing, not speaking. The sun streamed down, the dese............