“I never see sich grit,” she heard a bystander say, and with the dictum she agreed. It had been pure grit, the possession of the quality of indomitability.... And this was the man she had looked down upon, patronized!... This possession had been hidden within him, and even he had not dreamed of its presence. She caught her breath....
In an instant she was bending over Evan, lifting his head, wiping his lips with her handkerchief. She looked up in Deputy Jenney’s eyes, and her own eyes blazed.
“You coward!... You unspeakable coward!” she said.
The deputy shuffled on his feet. “He got what was comin’ to him.... He’ll git it ag’in every time I see him. I’ll drive him out of this here town.”
“No,” said Carmel—and she knew she was speaking the truth—“you won’t drive him out of town. You can kill him, but you can’t drive him out of town.”
The deputy shrugged his shoulders and slouched away. He was glad to go away. Something had deprived him of the enjoyment he anticipated from this event. He had a strange feeling that he had not come off victor in spite of the fact that his antagonist lay motionless at his feet.... Scowls and mutterings followed him, but no man dared lift his hand.
Evan struggled to lift his head. Through battered eyes he looked at the crowd packed close about him.
“Er—tell this crowd to disperse,” he said.
“Can you walk?”
“Of course,” he said in his old, dry tone—somewhat shaky, but recognizable.