Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1945-01-12

support her.
If she could stand up, she could
crawl through the window. She
could crawl away and hide some
where. 1t was her only chance.
She made another effort at getting
up. Her legs gave way. When she
tried to grasp the seat of the chair
and push herself up, her hands
slipped off. They had no strength.
Flashes of pain went through them.
Painting, she rested a moment.
The three men were arguing.
Zorie saw the kitchen door slowly
opening. She thought it was being
blown open by the wind, but there
was no wind.
A man appeared. He came lurch-
ing into the doorway. A knifelike
pain seemed to twist her heart. The
man stood, swaying, with his head
sagging.
His head, his face, his clothing
were a mass of shining purple-red
mud. What she could see of his
face, under the mud, was battered
almost beyond recognition. Blood
and mud were indistinguishably in
termingled.
zorie stopped the scream as it
rose in her throat. She whispered:
Steve! Steve!"
He carried in one hand two metal
objects so covered with red mud
that it was hard to recognize them.
He stared at her blearily. She
realized that he was so groggy he
could hardly stand. He must have
been lying half conscious in mud all
this time. He must have called on
superhuman effort to keep this ap-
pointment with Basil Stromberg.
He stood, swaying drunkenly, star
| ing at Zorie out of bloodshot, blurred
blue eyes. With his head sagging,
his arms Imply beside him, his
whole body caked with mud, he was
even more frightening than Pierre
had been.
Steve Duncan came lurching to-
ward her. He moved as deliberate
ly, as stif1y, as clumsily as a robot.
He paused beside her and peered
into her shocked white face. He
dropped one of the revolvers or pis-
tolls into her lap.
In strange, rumbling voice, he
said: "Use this, baby"
Her relief was so great that a
spasm of hysteria shot through her.
He staggered drunkenly past her
and into the living-room. A sense
of warmth and strength flowed mag
ically into her. Steve Duncan was,
suddenly, more than a man that
she loved. He was Mantle un-
defeatable. Beaten and battered and
left for dead in the red mud, he
had made himself get up and come
here.
She thought: "We'll probably not
get out of this alive, but I've seen
the most glorious thing in my life.
I've seen man who was beaten to
death refuse to accept it. I've seen
man prove that mankind can't be
beaten down."
The man was in the next room,
saying in his strange, rumbling, I'M
earthly voice: Hands up-all of
you'll"
There was sudden, short silence.
1t was followed by an outburst of
sound. A gun went off. There were
other sounds.
Zorie was trying to pick up the
revolver or the pistol in her lap.
But her hands were useless. She
thought of what Steve had done
the agonieS he must have gone
through to get here.
She tried to stand up. There &C.
cured, in the next room, splinter
ing sound, and a thump, as a door
burst open.
She saw them from the window.
There were three of them-Steve,
Pierre and Mr. Lanning, all locked
together, straining mass of muddy
men. Their feet slid about in the
red mud.
With a superhuman effort, she
picked up the gun in her lap. 1t
slid out of her hand. She reached
down for a handful of her SUM-
pleated evening dress. She tried to
swab the mud off the gun.
She watched the fighting men. She
wondered where Basil Stromberg
was.
The three men were still locked
together, floundering about in the
mud, with Pierre and Mr.. Lanning
striking at Steve. There was a re-
volYer in Mr.. Lanning's right hand.
Steve's hand was closed tightly
about Mr.. Lanning's wrist. His hand
holding the revolver was above his
head and the revolver was pointing
to the sky.
Pierre stepped away. He reached
up for the revolver and pulled it out
of Mr.. Lanning's hand. Then he
stepped back. He started to circle
about them.
Mr.. Lanning had one arm about
Steve's neck. With the hand that
had been holding the revolver, he
swung repeatedly at Steve's face.
They spun about in the mud.
Zorie found herself on her feet
,,,;th tho ,;e+oI