"Perkins is right," he said decisively. "No shooting. It would be
worth the life of every one here. We've got to stand it. But
somebody is going to sweat blood for this day's work!"
The instinct of discipline, characteristic of the professional
athlete, brought Cluff to his support.
"What Mr. Sherwen says, goes," he said, almost choking on the
words. "We've got to stand it."
In the breast of Miss Polly Brewster was no response to this
spirit. She was lawless with the lawlessness of unconquered youth
and beauty.
"Oh!" she breathed "If I had my pistol back, I'd shoot that BEAST
myself!"
The scientist turned his goggles hesitantly upon her.
"Miss Brewster," he began, "please don't think--"
"Don't speak to me!" she cried.
Another clamor of derision sounded from the street as Urgante
resumed the standard of his mockery and led his rabble forward.
Behind the dull-colored mass appeared a spot of splendor. It was
Von Plaanden, gorgeous in his full regalia, who had turned the
corner, returning from the public reception. Well back of the mob,
he pulled his horse up, and sat watching.
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