CHAPTER XXXVI
THE GRIM ACCOUNTING
The bullet only grazed Stark's face, and he recovered himself in a flash, knowing that he was not hurt. With a muttered exclamation he swung to confront the small, slim figure kneeling before him in the shadow.
Dexter saw the man shift the aim of his rifle, realized that Alison's life was forfeit. He gathered his muscles, and a long leap carried him across the floor to her side. The weight of his body forced the girl to the floor as he flung himself upon her; and he held her so, shielding her, while he wrested the revolver from her fingers.
Even as his left hand closed over the butt of the weapon the pent-up atmosphere of the room was jolted by the concussion of a heavy report, a burst of flame flared in his face, and a bullet fanned his top hair and tore splinters from the bunk post behind him. He saw Stark's eye staring at him down the rifle barrel as he jerked down the lever to inject a second cartridge.
Dexter was vouchsafed his instant of life, and he grasped its full measure. Alison's revolver was held comfortably in his left hand. There sounded a faint double snick as he drew back the hammer, and then he threw up the muzzle, and without seeming to aim, he fired.
Stark tossed up his head with the shot, and a queer look of bewilderment passed over his face. For a moment he held rigid on his feet, his eyes blankly gazing through the curling wreaths of smoke; then, his hands opened, as though they found the weight of the rifle too much for his strength; his legs bowed and caved beneath him and he doubled over backwards and fell heavily upon the floor.
In a second Dexter was on his feet, the light of battle flaming in his eyes. There was but one bullet left in the revolver, but the other men did not know, and he felt a thrilling confidence in himself as he stepped forward into the room.
There were five men left, but Crill was unarmed, and he held no fear of Archie Preston. Doucet, Croix and the red-bearded stranger were ranged in a compact group by the doorway. All three held rifles, but the dramatic suddenness of events seemed for the moment to have paralyzed their mental faculties. In the two seconds that might have enabled them to recover their wits, the corporal was upon them.
"Drop your guns!" he commanded, furious and menacing. His revolver somehow seemed to threaten all three at once. "Quick!" he jerked out savagely—"or you get it too!"