For answer Provine took his hands from the left side of his face and looked up at his master.
Arnold dropped him back with an oath, which Provine echoed.
“Gone!” he cried hoarsely, “gouged—slick an’ clean! An’ she tried to get ’em both—damn her hussy’s soul!”
Arnold rode slowly back to where that grotesque caricature of a woman still stood by the wall. She seemed immovable as the rock itself, part and parcel of the waiting world and the grey shadows.
“You young hellion!” he gritted through his teeth, “you have blinded my best man!”
“Have so,” said Nance, still in that dull voice, “yes—I have so.” She nodded her dishevelled head.
“Oh, what’s the use to fool with her!” cried Kate Cathrew furiously, “I’m done!”
With a flare of her unbridled temper she snatched her gun from its saddle-loops and flung it up.
As her finger curled on the trigger Arnold plunged his horse against Bluefire.
“No!” he cried as the report rang out clear and sharp in the thin air of dawn. The bullet struck with a vicious “phwit” ten feet above its mark, and a little rain of rock dust fell on Nance’s hair.