however, shouted with glee, including Luis Cervantes'
girl. She had spilled all her wine on a handkerchief and
looked all about her with blue wondering eyes.

"Boys," Blondie suddenly screamed, his shrill, guttural
voice dominating the mall, "I'm tired of living; I feel like
killing myself right now. I'm sick and tired of War Paint
and this other little angel from heaven won't even look at
me!"

Luis Cervantes saw that the last remark was addressed
to his bride; with great surprise he realized that it was
not Demetrio's foot he had noticed close to the girl's,
but Blondie's. He was boiling with indignation.

"Keep your eye on me, boys," Blondie went on, gun
in hand. "I'm going to shoot myself right in the fore-
head!"

He aimed at the large mirror on the opposite wall
which gave back his whole body in reflection. He took
careful aim. . . .

"Don't move, War Paint."

The bullet whizzed by, grazing War Paint's hair. The
mirror broke into large jagged fragments. She did not
even so much as blink.