“Jesse would not have missed,” he said, grimly.
At that moment, a new sound broke the stillness, the whinny of a horse. Reinforcement had approached within the shadow of the cattle-sheds. Something moved out there at last.
“Daddy!” called Mary, in a choked whisper. “Come here—they are down at the sheds.”
Williston stepped to the back window quickly.
“Change places,” he said, briefly.
“Daddy!”
“Yes?”
“Keep up your nerve,” she breathed between great heart-pumps.
“Surely! Do you the same, little comrade, and shoot to kill.”
There was a savage note in his last words. For himself, it did not matter so much, but Mary—he pinned no false faith in any thought of possible chivalrous intent on the part of the raiders to exempt his daughter from the grim fate that awaited him. He had to deal with a desperate man; there would be no clemency in this desperate man’s retaliation.