me in vain; but I confess I was a good deal more afraid of my own revolver than of the robbers. How could I kill a human being! On the contrary—I would sooner have died myself.
“Hands up! Surrender!” they thundered by the outer door. That was enlightening to me. I opened my door, stepped to the threshold holding my revolver and began to holler:
“Surrender! Surrender!”
Outside I saw a man who held a pistol, aimed at the robbers, one of whom held Stana’s mouth so she could not call, while the other was strangling Zivko, who was beginning to turn blue.
For a second the robbers hesitated in their work. One fired toward the rescuer in the door; the second struck with his yatagan the chain that held the iron kettle over the hearth, and it fell, putting out the fire. Then two shots were fired. Darkness reigned.
I began to fire at the ceiling to give myself courage. I was very careful not to hit anyone.
Then there was confusion. Suddenly someone was shoved into the room which was mine. I could not see who it was. Then I heard some one slip up to a door and shove the bolt.
