He was tramping once more through lanes, between fields, and stood again upon a hillock of Peckham Rye, and saw the morning break in beauty and in wonder over London.

The vision gained from the foolish and romantic days of his boyhood, steadied his finger upon the trigger after all these years.
Then to Jose's infinite relief the two horsemen rode on.

The long, black, shining barrel of the Colt followed them as they dwindled on the road.

They turned a corner, and as Hillyard replaced his pistol in his pocket, Jose Medina rolled over on his back, and clapped his hands to his face.
"You might have missed," he gasped.

"One of them at all events." Hillyard turned to him with a grin.