A ball from Wild's pistol passed through his heart, and a volley of musketry poured from the guards lodged several balls in the yet breathing body of his leader. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. ” “Wait? For what?” She replied. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration.
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