She grasped the revolver with eager fingers, and quick as thought pointed it at his breast and pulled the trigger. The cap snapped but there was not a cartridge in the chambers and he laughed until the cabin rung again. “You would do it, my fine girl,” he said. “There; drop it—the weapon is not loaded, and I should be a fool to trust myself in your hands.” He had made a mistake in giving her any weapon. Throwing her hand back, she hurled the heavy revolver at his head, and it struck him fairly between the eyes, and for a moment he reeled blindly to and fro, half-stunned by the sudden and terrible blow. This was the moment for Myrtle, and darting past him she caught up her carbine and cocked it quickly. By the time he had somewhat recovered from the blow, he saw her standing armed and ready, the carbine pointed at his heart. “There is a load in _this_ weapon, Mr. Rafe Norris,” she said with a merry laugh. “The tables are turned, I think. Take care! If you have any desire to live, do not dare to move hand or foot.” The tables were turned indeed, and by his own folly. He had not dreamed that this weak girl could so suddenly become the assailant, and he staggered back, still weak and confused, looking at her with a wild, questioning stare. “You dare not fire,” he hissed. “Down with the carbine, girl.” “Dare not! You do not know what a woman will dare for her honor which is dearer to her than life.” The base man saw that he was conquered, and that the eyes which flashed along the tube of the carbine were lurid with a baleful light. He had laughed at Velveteens when the story of his capture and escape was made known, and now he was in the same quandary. “Shoot,” he said, fiercely. “I will not turn in my tracks to save my life, and am ready to die. Why do you hesitate?” “I do not seek your life, Rafe Norris,” replied Myrtle. “I only protect myself from wrong, and that I will do, no matter what happens. If you had taken me to your camp I would have killed you with the first weapon I could reach.” “I would have risked that,” was the reply. “But enough of this. I am conquered, and wish to know what you require of me.” “You have come back voluntarily, and you must remain a prisoner. Go into that room behind you.” “I will not.” “Go in; it is the only way to save your life.” At this moment the light of hope came into the eye of Rafe Norris. He had seen something which boded well for him. “It is foolish to throw my life away,” he said, quietly. “Since you insist upon it and will take my life if I refuse, I will go as your prisoner. I could not ask for a fairer jailer.” “Go in there; I have no time to waste in idle words.” He retreated slowly, still facing her, and speaking in the same careless tone which he had assumed lately.