There was a flash of something white and glittering within six inches
of his face, a sharp click, and an eye looked directly into his own
across a short steel barrel.
"Go!" The word was like the spat of a bullet.
"But, Lizzie--"
"Go, you cur! or, as God is my witness, if you stay I'll kill you!"
With a sharp dig of the spur his horse sprang half-way across the road,
a black, prancing shadow against the glare of light. She saw the rider
fling up one arm, and bring down the stinging quirt on the animal's
flank; the next instant, with a bound, they were swallowed up in the
darkness. A moment she leaned against the shack, nerveless, half
fainting from reaction, her face deathly white. Then she inhaled a
long, deep breath, gathered her skirts closely within one hand, and
plunged boldly into the black alley.