"Ha! ha! ha! as pretty a little make-believe as ever I saw!" laughed the
brutal Thorg, now perfectly at his ease, and gloating over her beauty,
and helplessness, and, deadly terror. "As pretty a little sham as ever I
saw!"

"It was no sham! She couldn't sham! I drawed out the shot unbeknownst to
her! I wish, I does, my fingers had shriveled and dropped off afore they
ever did it!" exclaimed Oliver, in a passion of remorse, as he ran
forward, rake in hand.

He was quickly thrown down and disarmed--no one had any hesitation in
dealing with him.

"Now then, my fair!" said Thorg, moving toward his victim.

Edith was now wild with desperation--her eyes flew wildly around in
search of help, where help there seemed none. Then she turned with the
frenzied impulse of flying.

But the men surrounded to cut off her retreat.

"Nay, nay, let her run! Let her run! Give her a fair start, and do you
give chase! It will be the rarest sport! Fox-hunting is a good thing,
but girl-chasing must be the very h--l of sport, when I tell you--mind,
I tell you, men--she shall be the exclusive prize of him who catches
her!" swore the remorseless Thorg.

Edith had gained the back door.