She stood before him, tall, strong, and agile.
“I won’t leave you alone. What do you mean by locking me in that room? I’m no more crazy than you are. What’s this?” as she stumbled over the hat which the tramp had put beside the chair, and into which he had deposited the silver spoons from the table. “Oh, I see, you are all in league to rob me of my gold and precious stones!” and catching the hat up on the muzzle of the gun she gave it a whirl which sent the spoons glittering in every direction; then, advancing upon him, she thrust hat and gun into the face of the horrified man. With a volley of oaths he sprang backwards, upsetting his chair and falling over it.
“Oh, don’t kill him, Cassie! don’t kill him!”
“We’ll have a merry time,” gaily dancing about him and prodding him sharply with the gun, as he tried to scramble to his feet.
“Keep off with that gun, can’t you!” he yelled. “Can’t you hold her, you screaming idiots?” and half crawling, half pushed, he gained the kitchen door, which had stood partly open since he had entered.
“Where are you going, my pretty maid? Don’t you try to get away,” shouted Cassie, as she lilted lightly after him. The tramp stayed not to answer her question nor to obey her command, but clearing the door fled wildly away through the dusk.
“Here’s your hat; I’ll fire it after you,” she called, and a sharp report 307 rang out on the quiet evening air, then all was still.
The three girls stood for a moment in the door, watching the dim outline fleeing across the meadow in the direction of the highway.