Ruth sprang to the pony, lifted from its back a rifle.

Then into the mass of their pursuers Drake and she poured a fusillade.

They huddled, wavered, broke for cover.
"A chance!" gasped Ventnor.
Behind us was a wolflike yelping.

The first pack had re-formed; had crossed the barricade the dynamite had made; was rushing upon us.
I ran as I had never known I could.

Over us whined the bullets from the covering guns.