But no sooner did her eyes meet Lawrence's than she gave a start of surprise. A change came over her face and her hand trembled. The muzzle of the revolver sank, was raised, but once more was lowered.
"You—you," she whispered hoarsely. "Oh, God! How can I take your life. You tried to save my father. You pitied me. You—" A softer expression came over her face. She seemed to forget where she was and she whispered, "Then—then I was a girl, an innocent girl, but now—" her voice rose to a shriek. "Now I am a devil; but live; I cannot shoot."
The sound of galloping horses was heard and shouts. Lawrence looked and saw Harry and Jack almost onto them, their revolvers levelled on Billy.
"Great God! don't shoot!" he shouted; and to Billy, "Fly! Fly."
She sank her spurs into her horse and bending low over his neck was away like an arrow, but no avenging bullet followed her.
In a moment Harry and Jack were at Lawrence's side and helped him to his feet. "Captain, you're wounded," cried Harry. "Your side is all bloody." He tore away the coat and shirt.
"Thank Heaven, it's not deep," he exclaimed, "but bleeds freely. How did it happen?"
"I was about to cut down Red Jerry when I received this wound from behind. The same shot must have struck my horse in the back of the head, for he went down like a log."
"And the guerrilla who shot you was the same you told us not to shoot?"
"Yes. She was a woman and she spared my life. I will tell you all about it, but not now."