retribution.

Now, however, his bullet had gone astray. The few words to which
he had treated himself as an introduction to the intended deed had
proved his undoing. They had been enough to warn Willock of what
was coming; and just before Kansas had been called on "to witness,"
that is an instant before Red fired, Willock had sent a bullet
through the threatening wrist. The two detonations were almost
simultaneous, and Red's roar of pain, as he dropped his weapon, rang
out as an accompaniment to the crash of firearms.

The next instant, Willock, with a second shot from his six-shooter,
stretched Kansas on the ground; then, rushing forward with reversed
weapon, he brought the butt down on Red's head with such force as
to deprive him of consciousness. So swift and deadly were his
movements, so wild his appearance as, with long locks streaming in
the wind and huge black whiskers hiding all but glittering eyes,
aquiline nose and a brief space of tough red skin--so much more like
a demon than a man, it was no wonder that the child, awakened by the
firing, screamed with terror at finding her head pressed to his
bosom.

"Come!" Willock called breathlessly to the prisoner who still stood
with his back to the moon, as if horror at what he had just
witnessed rendered him as helpless as he had been from sheer terror.
Still holding the screaming child, he darted to the ponies that were
tied to the projecting logs of the cabin and hastily unfastened two
of the fleetest.

Henry Gledware, awakened as from a trance, bounded to his side.