And then she saw.  From ten feet above, straight down dropped something else.  Taut nerves of those who saw fancied it a great boulder falling.  But no boulder this, which, striking the little pile of rocks, became animated, rose, whirled, and——­

“Mark!” screamed Gloria.  “Mark!”

Turned to stone, incredulous of their eyes, bewildered beyond the power to move, were those who saw.  It was Brail who first understood, Brail the one man with a gun in his hands.  He whipped it up and began firing, nervous and excited.  It was after the second shot that King’s rifle answered him; it roared out like the crash of doom in Gloria’s ears; she saw the stabbing spurt of fire.  Brail sagged where he stood, crumpled and pitched forward, his rifle clattering loudly against the rocks.

But by now the brief stupor that had locked the other men in staring inaction was gone.  Gloria saw figures leaping forward; she knew that Brodie’s hands had relinquished her; she saw Brodie bearing down on King, roaring inarticulately as he went; she saw Benny and Jarrold and the Italian bearing down upon him; King was in the midst of all that.  They were upon him before Brail’s head had struck the ground.  They gave him no time, no space for another shot.  He swept his clubbed rifle high over his head; she heard the blow when he struck, the hideous sound of a crushing skull.  A man went down, she did not know which one.  Only it was not Mark—­thank God it was not Mark King!

And now King had a little room and an instant of his own as two other men swerved widely about the falling figure.  He fired again, not putting the rifle to his shoulder.  Another man fell, lay screaming, rolled aside—­was forgotten.

“Where’s my rifle?” Brodie was yelling.

He couldn’t find it in the dark; he couldn’t stop to grope for it.  But Gloria knew; she remembered.  She ran for it, found it, straightened up with it in her shaking hands.

Again King was using his weapon as a club, since they pressed him so closely.  Again came that terrible sound; Steve Jarrold it was who went down.  And with it another sound, that of hard wood splintering.  The rifle was broken over his head, the stock whirled close to Gloria, King had only the short heavy steel barrel in his hands.

Benny had circled to the far side; Brodie had caught up a great thick limb of wood.  They were coming at King from two sides at once....  Gloria tried to aim, pulled the trigger, tugging frantically.  Only then she remembered to draw the hammer back; it was Brodie’s ancient rifle and she struggled to get it cocked.  She shuddered at the report.  The bullet sang in front of Benny, and he stopped dead in his tracks.  He was near the cave’s mouth.  Gloria pointed, forgot the hammer remembered, got the gun cocked and fired again.  Benny plunged wildly forward; she did not know if she had hit him.  He hurled himself headlong toward the narrow exit and through.