there was a shot, and someone fell--not Shon, but Pierre, saying, as they
caught him, "Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! From behind!"

Instantly there was another shot, and someone crashed against the bottles
in the bar. The other factor in the game, the wife, had shot at Pierre,
and then sent a bullet through her own lungs.

Shon stood for a moment as if he was turned to stone, and then his head
dropped in his arms upon the table. He had seen both shots fired, but
could not speak in time.

Pierre was severely but not dangerously wounded in the neck.

But the woman--? They brought her out from behind the counter. She
still breathed; but on her eyes was the film of coming death. She turned
to where Shon sat. Her lips framed his name, but no voice came forth.
Someone touched him on the shoulder. He looked up and caught her last
glance. He came and stooped beside her; but she had died with that one
glance from him, bringing a faint smile to her lips. And the smile
stayed when the life of her had fled--fled through the cloud over her
eyes, from the tide-beat of her pulse. It swept out from the smoke and
reeking air into the open world, and beyond, into those untried paths
where all must walk alone, and in what bitterness, known only to the
Master of the World who sees these piteous things, and orders in what
fashion distorted lives shall be made straight and wholesome in the
Places of Readjustment.

Shon stood silent above the dead body.

One by one the miners went out quietly. Presently Pierre nodded towards