After him ran the small white dog.
Balthazar turned and uttered a scream of rage. He dashed at the animal, which dodged and passed him. In its teeth it held the bomb he had just laid at the risk of his life. The fuse was sputtering behind as the dog fled.
Balthazar pursued desperately. The path to the river led through a narrow defile of rock. But the beast was not trapped at the water's edge as the Gypsy had expected. It took to the water with a wide plunge.
Balthazar turned away, cursing. He rushed back to the huts. The guns and pistols were silent. He picked up from the side of the path a huge piece of wood. As he neared his companions, he shouted:
"Come out! Rush them, You cowards! Follow me!"
Harry fired his last two shots and two men fell. Pauline had long ago emptied the revolver.
Three men came on. There was a crash as the log in Balthazar's mighty hands beat down the door and he staggered through.
But Harry was upon him. He hurled the Gypsy across the room. He charged at the others and one went down.
Through the door came four men.
"It's Harry. Help him!" cried Pauline.