piano, our shoulders touched; before us that mob swayed, checked for
the moment, held fast by sudden overpowering dread. I glanced aside. My
companion was Brennan, hatless, his deep-set eyes aflame, his coat torn
off, his shirt ripped open to the waist, his bare breast red with
blood.

"No shootin', damn ye!" shouted a voice, hoarsely. "No shootin'; I want
that Reb alive!"

Through the swirling smoke I recognized the malicious face of Red
Lowrie as he pushed his way to the front. To me it was like a personal
challenge to combat.

"Rush them!" I muttered into Brennan's ear. "Hurl them back a bit, and
then dodge under into the next room."

I never waited to ascertain if he heard me. With one fierce spring I
struck their stunned line, and my iron bar swept a clear space as it
crashed remorselessly into them. The next instant Lowrie and I were
seemingly alone and fronting each other. A wild cat enraged by pain
looks as he did when he leaped to meet me. Hate, deadly, relentless,
glared in his eyes, and with a yell of exultation he swung up his long
rifle and struck savagely at my head with the stock. I caught it
partially on my barrel, breaking its full force, and even as it
descended upon my shoulder, jabbed the muzzle hard into his leering
face. With a snarl of pain he dropped his gun and grappled with me, but
as his fingers closed about my throat, something swirled down through
the maze, and the maddened brute staggered back, his arms uplifted, his
red beard cloven in twain.