She had been struck hard--a flying splinter of wood, perhaps, or a deflected bullet--her hair matted with blood, yet it was no more than a flesh wound, although leaving her unconscious.

If he hesitated it was but for an instant.

The entire situation recurred to him in a flash; he must change his plans, but dare waste no time.

If they were to escape it must be accomplished now, shadowed by darkness, while those savage watchers were safely beyond sound.

His lean jaws set with fierce determination, and he grimly hitched his belt forward, one sinewy hand fingering the revolver.