She had scarcely ceased speaking before he bounded to his feet,
whirled around and confronted her, like a lion at bay, roaring
forth:
"You have a revolver there, girl--move a finger and I shall throw
myself upon you like an avalanche?"
"I have no revolver--watch my hands as I take them forth, and see!"
said Capitola, stretching her arms out toward him.
"What do you mean, then, by your talk of sudden destruction?"
inquired Black Donald, in a voice of thunder.
"I mean that it hangs over you--that it is imminent! That it is not
to be escaped! Oh, man, call on God, for you have not a minute to
live!"
The outlaw gazed on her in astonishment.
Well he might, for there she stood paler than marble--sterner than
fate--with no look of human feeling about her, but the gleaming
light of her terrible eyes, and the beading sweat upon her death-
like brow.
For an instant the outlaw gazed on her in consternation, and then,
recovering himself he burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming:
"Ha, ha, ha! Well, I suppose this is what people would call a piece
of splendid acting! Do you expect to frighten me, my dear, as you
did Craven Le Noir, with the peas!"
"Say 'Lord have mercy on my soul'--say it. Black Donald--say it. I
beseech you!" she prayed.
"Ha, ha, ha, my dear! You may say it for me! And to reward you, I
will give you, such a kiss! It will put life into those marble
cheeks of yours!" he laughed.
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