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She knew that the crucial moment was at hand; that there were at best but a few moments for her to live. A silent prayer rose from her parted lips. She placed the sharp point of Oda Yorimoto's short sword against her breast, and waited waited for the coming of the men from the room beyond, snatching a few brief seconds from eternity ere she drove the weapon into her heart.
Both men turned toward the village, where a jabbering mob of half-caste Japanese had suddenly appeared in the streets, hurrying toward the hut of Oda Yorimoto. "Somepin doin', eh?" said the mucker. "Well, here goes s'long!" And he broke from the cover of the jungle and dashed across the clearing toward the rear of Oda Yorimoto's hut.
The mucker won to the girl's side first, and snatching Oda Yorimoto's long sword from the floor he threw his great weight against the door, and commanded the girl to make for the window and escape to the forest as quickly as she could. "Theriere is waiting dere," he said. "He will see youse de moment yeh reach de window, and den youse will be safe." "But you!" cried the girl. "What of you?"
Detective sergeants were indigenous to the soil that grew corner saloons and poolrooms, and to none other as well expect to discover one of Oda Yorimoto's samurai hiding behind a fire plug on Michigan Boulevard, as to look for one of those others along a farm-bordered road. But here in Kansas City, amidst the noises and odors that meant a large city, it was different.
She was an instant too late to save, but just in time to avenge scarcely had the samurai's sword touched the mucker than the point of Oda Yorimoto's short sword, wielded by the fair hand of Barbara Harding, plunged into his heart. With a shriek he collapsed beside the body of his victim. Barbara Harding threw herself beside Byrne. Apparently life was extinct.
The warriors danced about them, yelling threats and taunts the while they made occasional dashes to close quarters that they might deliver a swift sword cut and retreat again before the great white devil could get them with the sword that had been Oda Yorimoto's, or the strange fire stick that spoke in such a terrifying voice.
Theriere walked ahead with the boy's arm in his grasp. Byrne followed closely behind. They reached their destination in the rear of Oda Yorimoto's "palace" without interruption or detection. Here they reconnoitered through the thick foliage. "Dere's a little winder in de back of de house," said Byrne. "Dat must be where dem guys cooped up de little broiler."
Dere seems to be more'n one kind o' nerve I'm jest a-learnin' of the right kind, I guess." "And, Byrne," continued Theriere, "don't forget what I asked of you before we tossed up to see which should enter Oda Yorimoto's house." "I'll not ferget," said Billy. "Good-bye, Byrne," whispered Theriere. "Take good care of Miss Harding." "Good-bye, old pal," said the mucker.
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