The Black Hole of Glenranald
wrists and muscles were lashed at full stretch to the wires on either side.
"Now I'm going to shoot you like a dog," said Stingaree. He drew the revolver whose muzzle had pressed into his own neck so short a time before. Yet now it was broad daylight, and the sun coming up in the bound youth's eyes for the last time.
"Shoot away!" he croaked, raising the top of his head to speak at all. "I gave you leave before we started. Shoot away!"
"At ten paces," said Stingaree, stepping them. "That, I think, is fair."
"Perfectly," replied Fergus. "But be kind enough to make this so-called man of yours hold his foul tongue till I'm out of earshot of you all."
Huge Howie had muttered little enough for him, but to that little Stingaree put an instantaneous stop.
"He's a dog, to be shot like a dog, but too good a dog for you to blackguard!" cried he. "Any message, young fellow?"
"Not through you."
"So long, then!"
"Shoot away!"
The long barrel was poised as steadily as field
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