[Dancer-changes] Umor, with half of his thoughts on one side of the fence and half on t

[Trullinger V. <at...@va...>]

Inging concealment, and in it--to his amazement--was a pistol. He
recognized the weapon--one of a brace of light automatics which his
friend, Carl Lomen, had presented to him several Christmas seasons ago.
Pride and a strange exultation swept over him. Until now she had
concealed the weapon, but all along she had prepared to fight--to fight
with _him_ against their enemies! He wanted to stop and take her in his
arms, and with his kisses tell her how splendid she was. But instead of
this he sped more swiftly ahead, and they came into the nigger-head
bottom which lay in a narrow barrier between them and the range. Through
this ran a trail scarcely wider than a wagon-track, made through the sea
of hummocks and sedge-boles and mucky pitfalls by the axes and shovels
of his people; finding this, Alan stopped for a moment, knowing that
safety lay ahead of them. The girl leaned against him, and then was
almost a dead weight in his arms. The last two hundred yards had taken
the strength from her body. Her pale face dropped back, and Alan brushed
the soft hair away from it, and kissed her lips and her eyes, while the
pistol lay clenched against his breast. Even then, too ha