An honorable youth in a band of licensed military marauders.
"'Sdeath, sir! Don't interfere with me! Seize her, rascals!"
"One step more, and I pull the trigger!" said Edith.
"Captain Thorg! This must not be!" persisted the young officer.
"D--n, sir! Do you oppose me? Do you dare? Fall back, sir, I command
you! Scoundrels! close upon that wench and bind her!"
"Captain Thorg! This shall not be! Do you hear? Do you understand? I say
this violence shall not be perpetrated!" said the young officer, firmly.
"D--n, sir! Are you drunk, or mad? You are under arrest, sir! Corporal
Truman, take Ensign Shields' sword!"
The young man was quickly disarmed, and once more the captain
vociferated:
"Knock down and disarm that vixen! Obey your orders, villains! Or by
h--l, and all its fiends, I'll have you all court-martialed, and shot
before to-morrow noon!"
The soldiers closed around the unprotected girl.
"Lord, all merciful! forgive my sins," she prayed, and with a firm hand
pulled the trigger!
It did not respond to her touch--it failed! it failed!
Casting the traitorous weapon from her, she sunk upon her knees,
murmuring:
"Lost--lost--all is lost!" remained crushed, overwhelmed, awaiting her
fate!
"Ha! ha! ha! as pretty a little make-believe as ever I saw!" laughed the
brutal Thorg, now perfectly at his ease, and gloating over her beauty,
and helplessness, and, deadly terror.
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