Ward, quick to read his purpose, interposed. "Wait!" he commanded. "Stay here; I'll see them. Don't be rash."
As he passed out into the firelight the outlaw, without relaxing his vigilance, said in a low voice, "Well, girl, I reckon here's where I say good night."
"Don't resist," she pleaded. "Don't fight, please! Please! What is the use? Oh, it's too horrible! If you resist they will kill you!"
There was no fear in his voice as he replied: "They may not; I'm handy with my gun."
She was breathless, chilled by the shadow of the impending tragedy. "But that would be worse. To kill them would only stain your soul the deeper. You must not fight!"
"It's self-defense."
"But they are officers of the law."
"No matter; I will not be taken alive."
She moaned in her distress, helplessly wringing her hands. "O God! Why should I be witness of this?"
"You won't be. If this is the sheriff I am going to open that door and make a dash. What happens will happen outside. You need not see it. I'm sorry you have to hear it. But I give you my word—if you must hear something I will see to it that you hear as little as possible."