“They’re not shooting any better,” commented Drexel between his teeth.
She could not explain that their shots were going wild because they were under orders not to risk injuring her.
“Is the next the only cartridge? Feel in your pockets—perhaps you have some more!” she implored.
“This is the last,” said he.
He took aim at the captain—fired—threw the empty Browning away with a cry of despair. For the captain still sat his saddle.
“All is over,” he said grimly.
“No, no!” she cried. “They must not take you! They must not!”
“I’m willing they should not.”
“See—we’re in the forest,” she said desperately. “We’re running within two or three paces of the trees. See how thick they are. The men could never follow you on horseback in there. If you jump from the sleigh and make a dash——”
“I shall not desert you, countess,” he interrupted.