Tiny sparks sputtered out into the darkness, and the
miner understood. He had blindly stumbled upon a lighted fuse, a train
of destruction leading to some deed of hell. With an oath he leaped
recklessly forward, stamping the creeping flame out beneath his feet,
crushing it lifeless between his heavy boots and the rock.
There was an angry shout, the swift rush of feet, the red flare of a
rifle cleaving the night with burst of flame. In the sudden, unearthly
glare Brown caught dim sight of faces, of numerous dark figures leaping
toward him, but he merely crouched low. The girl! he must protect the
girl! That was all he knew, all he considered, excepting a passionate
hatred engendered by one of those faces he had just seen. They were
upon him in mass, striking, tearing like so many wild beasts in the
first fierceness of attack. His revolver jammed in its holster, but he
struck out with clenched fists, battering at the black figures, his
teeth ground together, his every instinct bidding him fight hard till
he died.
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