She took the pistol without a word, and the austerity of her manner as she did so, even in that moment, set him wondering what was the cause of it. But he had little time to dwell upon the matter for more footsteps were audible, and a voice grunted words that he did not catch. He picked up an ax, put it ready to his hand close to the door and then extinguished the slush-lamp.
The cabin was now full of shadows, though he could still see the girl's face in the glare of the stove, and marked with satisfaction that it bore no sign of fear. The position where she stood, however, was not a safe one, and he was constrained to bid her change it.
"You had better come into the corner here, Miss Yardely. It is out of range of any chance arrow through the window. That barricade of mine cannot last long, and they are sure to try the window."
The girl did not answer, but she changed her position, moving to the corner he had indicated, and just as she did so, two or three blows of an ax (as he guessed) knocked out the parchment of the window, but the barricade stood firm. The attack however, continued, and as the improvised shutter began to yield, Stane raised his rifle.
"There is nothing else for it," he whispered.
The next moment the rifle cracked and the sound was followed by a cry of pain.
"First blood!" he said, a little grimly.
There was a short lull, then something heavy smashed against the shutter and it collapsed in the room. As it did so a gun barrel was thrust in the opening, and a shot was fired apparently at random. The bullet struck the cabin wall a full two yards from where Helen was standing. Stane turned to her quickly.
"As close in the corner as you can get, Miss Yardely; then there will be no danger except from a ricochet."
Helen obeyed him. The excitement of the moment banished her resentment, and as she watched him standing there, cool and imperturbable as he waited events, a frank admiration stirred within her. Whatever his sins, he was a man!