“Light the lights,” she said to Simmy when the men were some fifty yards distant. This was instinct--the instinct for surprise. It was excellent strategy. The men had their directions how to proceed, but in these directions no account was taken of lights turning on unexpectedly. They had been led to expect a deserted office and no resistance. They stopped abruptly and gathered in a knot to inquire the meaning of this phenomenon. Carmel did some calculation for the first time. To reach the office the men would have to cross the area of light passing through its windows. She, herself, was in the darkness beyond. This, she thought, was as it should be.... Presently the men surged forward again, keeping closely together. Carmel stepped out of the shadows into the light, where she and her weapon must be plainly visible, and paused. “Stop,” she called, sharply. They stopped, then somebody laughed. The laugh touched the fuse leading to the magazine of Carmel’s anger. She blazed with the explosion of it. The laugh was a slight thing, but it caused the difference between a mere young woman holding a gun in her hands, and a young woman holding a gun in her hands which she would shoot. She stepped backward into the shadows where she could not be seen. “Go away,” she said. “Li’l’ girl with li’l’ shotgun,” somebody said, in a tone of interest. “I’m going to count ten,” said Carmel. “If you haven’t gone then I’ll shoot.” “Li’l’ girl kin count to ten,” said the same voice. “Hain’t eddication hell!” “One,” she began, “two, three, four----” There was a forward movement, raucous laughter, inebriated comments. She hastened her counting--“five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten....” They were still moving forward slowly, evidently viewing the situation as humorous. She lifted the heavy gun and pointed its muzzle at the mass of approaching legs.... Her acquaintance with twelve-gauge automatic shotguns, and with the dispositions thereof, was rudimentary. She did not know what to expect, nevertheless she tugged at the trigger. There was a tremendous report which frightened her as nothing had frightened her that night. She felt as if one of those men had thrown his sledge and struck her shoulder. Dazed, bewildered, she all but lost her balance. But, steadying herself, keeping her finger on the trigger, she maintained a readiness for what might come next. Howls of agony emanated from the men. Two of them were rolling on the sidewalk clutching shins and cursing. But for this there was silence. Humor had departed from the situation, for even the smallest bird shot, discharged from a shotgun at less than a hundred feet, are not to be disregarded by those who shun pain. “She’s shot my leg off.... My Gawd!...” This exclamation of agony trailed off into curses and incoherent ejaculations. “Now go away,” Carmel called. “Next time I’ll shoot higher.” The shot, the suddenness, the unexpectedness of it, had cleared tipsy brains. It had created angry, dangerous men.