CHAPTER XXII.
All this while the girl crouched close to earth, immovable, breathless, keenly alert amid the gruesome shadows hovering along the broken line of rock. There was a strange and terrible fascination in the scene enacted below her—a fascination she would fain shake off, yet felt powerless to overcome, like the fatal spell a serpent weaves when it charms a victim.
To her perturbed brain it seemed an oppressive dream, an unhappy nightmare, born of the surrounding gloom, and still she understood that it was most real, that the little drama, with its environment of night and secrecy and threatened crime, was one of momentous import to her and to her lover.
Was it now time for her to act, to take her part in it, or must she wait a little longer for her cue? Should she reveal her presence and appeal to the members of this lawless band, denouncing its unscrupulous leader, and his traitorous ally? Would the raiders believe her story, and listen to a petition for her sweetheart's liberty, after having heard Steve Judson's strong testimony, strengthened by the captain's philippic?
True, she might conduct them to the very spot wherein the real traitor had concealed his ill-gotten gains, and where she had overheard him plotting with the captain against the prisoner, but the money was no longer there, and with Steve and the captain both against her, she could hope to accomplish little. Neither would hesitate to go to any length to prove her statements false; besides, there was no time to prove words true—it was a moment for action, not for words. Whatever was done must be done this very night—at once.
On one point her mind was fully set—harm should not befall the innocent victim of this foul conspiracy, while she could raise a voice or hand to prevent it. A plan of succor must be speedily decided upon. Persuasion seemed the only feasible one in her present strait. Might she not state the whole case calmly and dispassionately to them? Surely they would not be deaf to reason or entreaty. When they were brought to realize the fact that it was through her the band had been warned of the gate being under guard the night of the attack, their gratitude alone should insure her both justice and mercy for the one whose cause she pleaded.
Among these lawless men there were two who stood in the way of Milt's liberty, the others were negative save as their own personal safety was concerned, and of these two active enemies, the captain was by far the most dangerous. With his evil influence removed, Steve would no longer be an enemy to the prisoner. Yet how could that influence be taken away in time to be of benefit to Milt? A sudden thought came to the girl that startled and terrified her with its meaning.
There was a solution to the problem. The means for removing this baneful influence was close at hand—within her very grasp. But could she do this deed? Had she the courage to attempt it? She resolutely nerved herself to the effort.
Slowly drawing the pistol from her belt, and noiselessly sinking on one knee, that she might the better rest her arm and take a more accurate aim, the girl carefully sighted the captain's dark form, while her finger trembled nervously on the hammer of the weapon.
Just a slight pressure—the mere movement of a finger—and a soul would be sent quickly into eternity. Yet what an evil soul it was and to what lasting punishment! As she thought of it, in all its terrible import, her own soul turned faint, and her fingers grew limp and purposeless. Oh! it was a fearful thing to do, to shoot one down like a wild beast, and far worse to hurry one so deeply charged with wickedness into eternity, without a moment's time in which to cry out for forgiveness for his evil life.