Writhing in terror,
Mary let out a piercing scream. The man lifted his hand to strike her.
But the blow never fell.
A shadow flashed across her vision, as an indistinct shape flew down
from the rocks above. There was the thud of impact, as the man on top
of her was torn aside. Two men wrestled on the ground beside her. The
one, in rough clothes that fit him badly, quickly gained the upper
hand, pinning the other beneath him. He raised a long knife in his
hand, and with a savage cry, drove the blade home.
But an instant later there came a shot from behind, and the prisoner
fell forward across the man that he had stilled. The second
cavalryman, still mounted, had draw his pistol as soon as he regained
his senses, and waited only for a clear shot at the Highlander.
In the confusion he had lost his grip on the other's horse, which
bolted at the sound. And taking quick stock of the situation, the
cavalryman seemed to feel much the same panic. For he too rode away,
as if the Devil rode behind him. His hoofbeats died slowly in the
distance.
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