A WAY TO THE RIVER She waited in agony as he sighted carefully, striving to gauge the distance.

It seemed an interminable time before his finger pressed the trigger.

Then came the report, a flash of flame, and the powder smoke blown back in her face.

Half-blinded by the discharge, she yet saw that black smudge leap upright; again the Henry blazed, and the dim figure went down.

There was a cry--a mad yell of rage--in which scattered voices joined; spits of fire cleaving the darkness, the barking of guns of different calibre.