Before she was halfway down three shots rang out. The girl clutched her heart and listened, but not a sound could be heard save the long echoes in the valley, which sounded like a dying breath. On she sped from rock to rock, keeping ever out of sight of the shed, her senses keenly alive to the one object in view--a bit of white far below. It might have been a bunch of flowers along the hillside, but white flowers never grew there--a heap of bones, then, she thought. She made a zigzag line along the jagged ridge of rocks, closer and closer to the white object below. She wondered if he lay on his face or his back. How calm she was in the shock and terror of her grief! The light of the moon was growing dim, she had reached the very tip of the rocks, the white object was not twenty feet away, but out in the open in perfect view of the sheep-shed and the score of men it hid. Another shot broke the stillness. The white object moved, and then a moan followed, so low that none but the ears of the frenzied girl could have heard. Like an enraged lioness she sprang out into the open and dragged the heavy body up toward the shelter of rocks. Several bullets rang about her, but the increasing darkness made her an uncertain target. A couple of men ventured outside the sheep-shed, encouraged by the stillness. The girl laughed savagely, as if in glee, and pulled the man's body close to the side of rocks, covering it with her own. "Come on," she cried to herself. "Come on, show yourselves! I shall have you all! For every pang you have made him suffer, you shall have twenty, and for his death you shall have a lingering one! Come on, come on!" Three stood outside. The addition pleased her. She laughed. Taking deliberate aim she fired again and again. Three wounded, frightened men crawled into the shelter of the shed. Then a score of bullets splashed against the rocks about her. She lifted the warm bleeding body closer under the rocks, drawing her own over it to protect it from all harm and talking frantically the while.