"What's that he said about savin' your life?" demanded Dave.
"He did," explained Mills. He told them the story, and they listened without sympathy.
"It was a bloomin' plucky thing to do," concluded the trader. "I'd ha' bin dead by now but for him, and I owe 'im one for it."
"Oh, nobody's sayin' he isn't plucky," said the man who had 'been tying the Frenchman's arms, as he rose to his feet. "He's the dare- devillist swine alive, but he's done with it now."
Dave came round and clapped Mills on the shoulder.
"It's worked you a bit soft, old man," he said. "Why, hang it all, you wouldn't have us let him go after shooting a woman, would you?"
"Oh! stow it," broke in one of the others. "If it wasn't that 'e's got to go back to Macequece to be shot, I'd blow his head off now."
"I'm not asking you to let him go," cried Mills. "But give the bloke a chance, give 'im a run for it. Why, I wouldn't kill a dog so; it's awful—an'—an'—he saved my life, chaps; he saved my life."
"But he shot a woman," said Charley.
That closed the case—the man had committed the ultimate crime.
Nothing could avail him now. He had shot a woman—he must suffer.