The pallor in Armitage's face gave him an unearthly look; he appeared to be trying to force himself to a pace of which his wavering limbs were incapable.

At the moment that Claiborne sprang upon the wall behind Chauvenet Armitage swerved and stumbled, then swayed from side to side like a drunken man.
His left arm swung limp at his side, and his revolver remained undrawn in his belt.

His gray felt hat was twitched to one side of his head, adding a grotesque touch to the impression of drunkenness, and he was talking aloud: "Shoot me, Mr.Chauvenet.Go on and shoot me! I am John Armitage, and I live in Montana, where real people are.

Go on and shoot! Winkelried's in jail and the jig's up and the Empire and the silly King are safe.

Go on and shoot, I tell you!" He had stumbled on until he was within a dozen steps of Chauvenet, who lifted his revolver until it covered Armitage's head.
"Drop that gun--drop it damned quick!" and Dick Claiborne swung the butt of his rifle high and brought it down with a crash on Chauvenet's head; then Armitage paused and glanced about and laughed.
It was Claiborne who freed Durand from the dead horse, which had received the shots fired at Oscar the moment he rose at the wall.