“Oh! Oh!” cried the girl. “You unspeakable coward!”
Carroll jumped forward, but Sherwen was equally quick. He interposed his slight frame.
“Perkins is right,” he said decisively. “No shooting. It would be worth the life of every one here. We’ve got to stand it. But somebody is going to sweat blood for this day’s work!”
The instinct of discipline, characteristic of the professional athlete, brought Cluff to his support.
“What Mr. Sherwen says, goes,” he said, almost choking on the words. “We’ve got to stand it.”
In the breast of Miss Polly Brewster was no response to this spirit. She was lawless with the lawlessness of unconquered youth and beauty.
“Oh!” she breathed “If I had my pistol back, I’d shoot that beast myself!”
The scientist turned his goggles hesitantly upon her.
“Miss Brewster,” he began, “please don’t think—”
“Don’t speak to me!” she cried.