Three times he fired in quick succession at a moving blot in the snow-gloom, and there went up from that blot a wailing cry that he knew was caused by the deep bite of lead.
Again he plunged on, a muffled shout of defiance on his lips.

Never had the fire of battle raged in his veins as now.

Back in the window, listening in terror, praying for him, was Meleese.

The knowledge that she was there, that at last he had won her and was fighting for her, stirred him with a joy that was next to madness.

Nothing could stop him now.