His
ammunition was exhausted and with it had departed his
courage. Flight seemed the only course remaining. Bridge
made no effort to stop him. He would have been glad to fly,
too; but he could not leave Anthony Harding, and he was
sure that the older man would prove unequal to any sustained
flight on foot.
"You better go, too, Sing," he said to the Chinaman,
placing another bullet through the door; "there's nothing more
that you can do, and it may be that they are all on this side
now--I think they are. You fellows have fought splendidly.
Wish I could give you something more substantial than
thanks; but that's all I have now and shortly Pesita won't
even leave me that much."
"Allee light," replied Sing cheerfully, and a second later he
was clambering through the window in the wake of the loyal
Mexican.
And then the door crashed in and half a dozen troopers
followed by Pesita himself burst into the room.
Bridge was standing at the foot of the stairs, his carbine
clubbed, for he had just spent his last bullet. He knew that he
must die; but he was determined to make them purchase his
life as dearly as he could, and to die in defense of Anthony
Harding, the father of the girl he loved, even though hopelessly.
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