"If you destroy the bridge I shall go with it. That will be murder. Those men down there will be hanged for my death. Now, will you call them off?"
The mob hesitated.
"No!"
Every man of the hundreds took up the cry. Steve Rush stood calmly on the bridge, his attention divided between the men creeping up the ravine and the mob on the surface. He held a piece of railroad iron in his hands, but this was the only weapon he had for his own defence, in case the men should decide to rush upon him from the end of the structure.
The dynamiters were nearing the danger spot. Just then a woman fairly flew down the short incline that led to the bridge. She did not stop, but dashed full speed out to the bridge. Reaching it, she ran with all speed to where Steve Rush was standing, exhorting the crowd and pleading and threatening.
"Miss Cavard!" he gasped. "You must not stay here. Run for your life. Don't you see what the men are going to do?"
"Yes, I'll run, but I would rather stay. Here!"
She thrust something toward Steve—something that she had been carrying concealed under her long, black coat. Steve uttered an exclamation of joy. It was a rifle. Passing it quickly to him with a box of cartridges, the girl sped on across the bridge to the opposite side.
None had seen the rifle change hands. Steve waited until she had reached a place of safety; then he stooped over and pretended to pick the weapon up from the track. This time he made no effort to conceal it.
"He's got a gun!" roared the miners.