To Win or to Die
A heavy fall checked the victim's panic flight, and as he lay panting and wet with the perspiration which had started from every pore, he realised that one of the bullets had taken effect, ploughing his left arm, which throbbed as if being seared with a red-hot iron.
But the bodily agony was as nothing to the mental anguish which he suffered. Death was before him if he lay there--death in a painless, insidious form, no doubt; but still, death in all its horror to one so young and strong.
He knew that he must rise and keep moving if he wished to prolong his existence, and he rose to his feet, raging now against the cowardly gang, and more against himself.
"I was a fool and a coward," he groaned. "Why didn't I fight for my life? Great heaven! What shall I do?"
He paused for a moment, meaning to turn back and make an attack upon his enemies.