of the cocked six-shooter. To give effect and naturalness to the
tableau he was arranging for the benefit of the next traveller by that
trail, he drew up the right knee and put revolver and closed hand on it
as if Danby had been killed while just about to fire his third shot.

Strong, with the pride of a true artist in his work, stepped back a
pace or two for the purpose of seeing the effect of his work as a
whole. As Danby fell, the back of his head had struck a lump of soil or
a tuft of grass which threw the chin forward on the breast. As Strong
looked at his victim his heart jumped, and a sort of hypnotic fear took
possession of him and paralysed action at its source. Danby was not yet
dead. His right eye was open, and it glared at Strong with a malice and
hatred that mesmerised the murderer and held him there, although he
felt rather than knew he was covered by the cocked revolver he had
placed in what he thought was a dead hand. Danby's lips moved but no
sound came from them. Strong could not take his fascinated gaze from
the open eye. He knew he was a dead man if Danby had strength to crook
his finger, yet he could not take the leap that would bring him out of
range. The fifth pistol-shot rang out and Strong pitched forward on his
face.

The firm of Danby and Strong was dissolved.




A MODERN SAMSON.

A little more and Jean Rasteaux would have been a giant. Brittany men
are small as a rule, but Jean was an exception. He was a powerful young