“Yes--now,” Val said, with answering smile.
The Mexican, thinking to catch Gale off guard, slowly lowered his arms, but she was watching him.
“Reach for the sky, you!” she said savagely. “I’m not afraid to shoot, so be careful.”
But the Mexican, his pride outraged that such a slip of a girl should dare oppose him, lunged forward and caught Gale’s wrist in his hand. Gale’s finger pressed the trigger, but the bullet sped harmlessly past him. His fingers were like steel talons about her wrist, hurting so she had to drop the revolver. It fell to the floor by her foot and a kick sent it spinning into the corner. At the same time she pulled herself free of the man and darted to the other side of the rickety table. He retrieved his knife from the floor and took a few catlike steps toward her.
Gale retreated until she stumbled against a stool. She gripped it firmly and watched her enemy.
“Don’t come near me!” she warned.
Forgotten was the knife she still had. Now she had another plan of defense and, desperate as it was, she meant to use it. The Mexican came nearer and she swung the stool up with a crashing blow against his head. It was an effective means of subduing him, for he crumpled to the floor without a sound.
“That was the one I owed him,” Val muttered.
Gale shivered, and turning away, secured her gun and went across to Val, her back deliberately upon her fallen enemy. It took but a moment to slash Valerie’s bonds.
“Oh, Gale!” Valerie said, almost sobbing, her head on Gale’s shoulder. Now that there was no longer any reason for her to be brave, reaction had set in. “It was--horrible!”