"Iver come!" called Mehetabel.
Then through the illuminated haze, like an atmosphere of glow-worm's light, himself black against a background of shining water, appeared the young man.
Jonas had his teeth clenched; his breath hissed like the threat of a serpent, as he drew a long inspiration through them.
"You are there!" shouted Iver, joyously, and ran forward.
She felt a thrill run through the barrel, on which she had laid her hand; she saw a movement of the shoulder of Jonas, and was aware that he was preparing to fire.
Instantly she snatched the gun to her, laid the muzzle against her own side, and said: "Fire!" She spoke again. "So all will be well."
Then she cried in piercing tones, "Iver! run! run! he is here, and he seeks to kill you."
Jonas sprang to his feet with a curse, and endeavored to wrest the gun from Mehetabel's hand. But she held it fast. She clung to it with tenacity, with the whole of her strength, so that he was unable to pluck it away.
And still she cried, "Run, Iver, run; he will kill you!"
"Let go!" yelled Bideabout. He set his foot against Thor's Stone; he twisted the gun about, he turned it this way, that way, to wrench it out of her hands.