“I pardon you. Let me proceed!”
“Oh, sir, do not. No! no! She is your sister, and I know you have the right, but thar’s no needcessity. I have heerd of your shootin’. I give in; you kin beat me. For God’s sake, do not risk it; as you care for her, do not!”
“There is no risk. I will show you.”
“No, no! If you must, then, let me! I will hold it. Oh, let me!” stammered the hunter, in tones of entreaty.
“Hollo, Billee! What’s the dratted rumpus?” cried Rube, coming up. “Hang it, man! let’s see the shot. I’ve heern o’ it afore. Don’t be skeert, ye fool! he’ll do it like a breeze; he will!”
And as the old trapper said this he caught his comrade by the arm, and swung him round out of the Indian’s way.
The girl, during all this, had stood still, seemingly not knowing the cause of the interruption. Garey’s back was turned to her, and the distance, with two years of separation, doubtless prevented her from recognising him.
Before Garey could turn to interpose himself, the rifle was at the Indian’s shoulder and levelled. His finger was on the trigger, and his eyes glanced through the sights. It was too late to interfere. Any attempt at that might bring about the dreaded result. The hunter, as he turned, saw this, and halting in his tracks, stood straining and silent.
It was a moment of terrible suspense to all of us—a moment of intense emotion. The silence was profound. Every breath seemed suspended; every eye was fixed on the yellow object, not larger, I have said, than an orange. Oh, God! will the shot never come?
It came. The flash, the crack, the stream of fire, the wild hurrah, the forward rush, were all simultaneous things. We saw the shivered globe fly off. The girl was still upon her feet; she was safe!