The Argosy, January 1906 — page 74: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

256 and shot a quick glance about the room for some weapon with which to defend himself. The next instant the heavy wine bottle crashed full in the passionate face of the Franc-tireur; the man uttered a eroan, reeled back against his followers, and clapped both hands to his battered countenance. Tiny streams of blood trickled through his fingers. Bosworth understood why the rabble was there: to be avenged upon the mar- quis for the act of his son, the captain of chasseurs, and probably to loot the chateau. His hasty action had brought matters to a crisis a few minutes earlier. His fighting instinct was aroused, and he did not take reckoning of the odds against him. The sudden and unexpected mishap tc their leader seemed to paralyze the other Franc-tireurs,; they stood still and did nothing. Bosworth called to the marquis. “The door is behind you, monsieur, perhaps is The cold voice of the old nobleman broke in. “You should not have mixed yourself in this, monsieur. Alon Dieu, you should have left him for me to kill. Now— now we will fight it out together—if the canatlle know how to fight.” Suddenly a shot rang out from some- where in the crowd near the window. Probably it was fired at the American, but Bosworth stood unharmed; the mar- quis was not so fortunate. Receiving the ball full in the chest, he swayed backward toward the _ wall, clutched at the draperies, then sank without word or groan to the floor. It seemed to Bosworth that scarcely a second elasped between the shot and a second report; the echo of the first had not ceased ringing in his ears when the thunder of the other sounded behind him. ; He saw one of the Franc-lireurs pitch forward, saw the leader snatch his hand from his wounded face and stare past him toward the inner door of the library. He turned sharply, thinking to see one of the marquis’ servants who had come to the defense of his master; but what he saw struck him dumb with astonish- ment and admiration. THE ARGOSY. Just inside the threshold of the door opening into the hall a young girl was standing; though fully dressed it was evident she had but lately arisen from slumber. Her face was pale, but her eyes looked fearlessly across the space which separated her from the rabble near the windew. One hand clutched the hem of her loose robe, the other, half raised, held a short-barreled revolver. The blood stained face of the leader of the Franc-tireurs was distorted by a horrible smile. “Ah!” eried he hoarsely. “So it is the mademoiselle who has saved us the trouble of searching for her. Ciel, but the little one has teeth! Monsieur le marguis taught her something before he died.” : At the final words the girl started and her gaze shifted hastily about the room. It was evident she had seen only the Franc-tireurs, and did not know the marquis had fallen. Now, for the first time, she saw the old man, lying motionless near the wall. Her lips parted; she took a step forward, and, letting the revolver fall from her fingers, she threw herself upon her knees beside her father. “Pere! Mon pere!’’ she cried piti- fully. The Franc-tireuwrs were pressing near- er; the leader was already within a few feet of Bosworth. The latter knew he must do something, and do it quickly. With a rapid movement he sprang backward, stooped down, and caught up the revolver which lay just within the doorway. Then he turned and faced the Franc-tireurs. CHAPTER IIL. THE RAVENS OF THE RHINE. THE man in the chasseur helmet halted in his tracks—perhaps he remem- bered_ the wine bottle. His followers crowded behind him, peering over his shoulder. A determined man armed with a revolver frequently dampens en- thusiasm, and the stockily built Ameri- can certainly lool-ed determined. Bosworth knew he was in a tight place: perhaps the most ticklish of his life, and he had seen something of chook (ele) com