THE RUBY OF KISHMOOR
in his pocket that he appeared to awaken from the trance that the sight of the object had sent him into. But no sooner had the cause of this strange demeanor disappeared into our hero’s breeches-pocket than he arose as with an electric shock. In an instant he became transformed as by the touch of magic. A sudden and baleful light flamed into his eyes, his face grew red as blood, and he clapped his hand to his pocket with a sudden and violent motion. “Ze ball!” he cried, in a hoarse and strident voice. “Ze ball! Give me ze ball!” And upon the next instant our hero beheld the round and shining nozzle of a pistol pointed directly against his forehead.
For a moment he stood as though transfixed; then in the mortal peril that faced him, he uttered a roar that sounded in his own ears like the outcry of a wild beast, and thereupon flung himself bodily upon the other with the violence and the fury of a madman.
The stranger drew the trigger, and the powder flashed in the pan. He dropped the
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