at the flash.' Thin he fired again, an' that dhrew a fresh volley,
and the long slugs that they chew in their teeth came floppin'
among the rocks like tree-toads av a hot night. 'That's better,'
sez Love-o'-Women. 'Oh Lord, how long, how long!' he sez, an' at
that he lit a match an' held ut above his head.

"'Mad,' thinks I, 'mad as a coot,' an' I tuk wan stip
forward, an' the nixt I knew was the sole av my boot flappin' like
a cavalry gydon an' the
- funny-bone av my toes tinglin'. 'Twas a clane-cut shot - a
slug - that niver touched sock or
hide, but set me bare-fut on the rocks. At that I tuk Love-o'-
Women by the scruff an' threw him under
a bowlder, an' whin I sat down I heard the bullets patterin' on
that good stone.

"'Ye may dhraw your own wicked fire,' I sez, shakin' him, 'but I'm
not goin' to be kilt too.'

"Ye've come too soon,' he sez. 'Ye've come too soon. In another
minute they cud not ha' missed me. Mother av God,' he sez, 'fwhy
did ye not lave me be? Now 'tis all to do again,' an' he hides his
face in his hands.

"'So that's it,' I sez, shakin' him again. 'That's th manin' av
your disobeyin' ordhers.'

"'I dare not kill meself,' he sez, rockin' to and fro. 'My own
hand wud not let me die, and there's not a bullet this month past
wud touch me. I'm to die slow,' he sez. 'I'm to die slow. But I'm