The man leaped forward and attempted to seize her. His reach fell short, for the woman was quicker and quite as strong as he. She flung him aside. The silver arrow was in her right hand. She held it aloft like a dagger.
The man retreated.
"Coward," she cried in Croatoan. "Coward! It is not for you. It is my last friend—the friend that has been waiting to save me all these years!"
The arrow flashed in the air, and with a terrific lunge went straight to the woman's heart.
She leaped into the air, reeled and fell across the body of the dying doe. And the blood of the two friends intermingled.
SO HERE, THEN, ENDETH THE TALE OF "THE SILVER ARROW," WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD, AND MADE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFTERS, AT THEIR SHOPS, WHICH ARE IN EAST AURORA, COUNTY OF ERIE, STATE OF NEW YORK, ANNO DOMINI, NINETEEN HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE, AND SINCE THEIR FOUNDING THE THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR
