His late opponents had decided to take advantage of Carthy’s absence, and inflict chastisement prompt and merciless upon the “youthful stranger.”  If it had not been for that small frightened “Oh” Cosme would have been down at once.

With that moment’s advantage he fought like a tiger, his golden eyes ablaze.  Swift and dangerous anger was one of his gifts.  He was against the wall, he was torn from it.  One of his opponents staggered across the room and fell, another crumpled up against the bar.  Hilliard wheeled and jabbed, plunged, was down, was up, bleeding and laughing.  He was whirled this way and that, the men from whom he had struck himself free recovered themselves, closed in upon him.  A blow between the eyes half stunned him, another on his mouth silenced his laughter.  The room was getting blurred.  He was forced back against the bar, fighting, but not effectively.  The snarling laughter was not his now, but that of the cheat.

Something gave way behind him; it was as if the bar, against which he was bent backwards, had melted to him and hardened against his foes.  For an instant he was free from blows and tearing hands.  He saw that a door in the bar had opened and shut.  There was a small pressure on his arm, a pressure which he blindly obeyed.  In front of him another door opened, and closed.  He heard the shooting of a bolt.  He was in the dark.  The small pressure, cold through the torn silk sleeve of his white shirt, continued to urge him swiftly along a passage.  He was allowed to rest an instant against a wall.  A light was turned on with a little click above his head.  He found himself at the end of the open hallway.  Before him lay the brilliant velvet night.

Hilliard pressed his hands upon his eyes trying to clear his vision.  He felt sick and giddy.  The little barmaid’s face, all terrified and urgent eyes, danced up and down.

“Don’t waste any time!” she said.  “Get out of Millings!  Where’s your pony?”

At that he looked at her and smiled.

“I’m not leaving Millings till to-morrow,” he said uncertainly with wounded lips.  “Don’t look like that, girl.  I’m not much hurt, If I’m not mistaken, your watch-dog is back and very much on his job.  I reckon that our friends will leave Millings considerably before I do.”

In fact, behind them at the end of the passage there was a sort of roar.  Carthy had returned to avenge The Aura.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?  You’re sure they won’t try to hurt you again?”

He shook his head.  “Not they...”  He stood looking at her and the mist slowly cleared, his vision of her steadied.  “Shall I see you to-morrow?”

She drew back from him a little.  “No,” she said.  “I sleep all the morning.  And, afterwards, I don’t see any one except a few old friends.  I go riding...”

He puckered his eyelids inquiringly.  Then, with a sudden reckless fling of his shoulders, he put out his hand boldly and caught her small pointed chin in his palm.  He bent down his head.