Then the semi-darkness was rent by a flame streak that started from where Lawler stood, and the air of the cabin rocked with a deafening roar.

She saw Link go down in a heap, and before she could draw a breath another lancelike flame darted from the point where Lawler stood.

She saw Givens stagger; heard the heavy piece of cordwood thud to the floor; saw Givens plunge backward through the door to land in the big drift outside.
Then she huddled down into the bunk, covering her face with her hands, shuddering, cringing from the horror she had witnessed.
When she again opened her eyes the lamp had been lighted and the door closed.

For a long time she did not move, dreading to peer from the bunk, lest she see a thing that would remind her of the tragedy.
But when, after a while, she found courage to look, she saw Lawler standing near the fireplace, looking down into the flames, his back to her.
The axe, she noted, shuddering, was standing on the floor near the woodpile; and there was no sign of Link or Givens.
For a long time she was silent, watching Lawler, a dread wonder filling her.

And at last, when the continuing silence began to affect her with its horrible monotony, she said, quaveringly: "Did--you--Are they _dead_ ?" "Yes," said Lawler, gruffly; "I took them out back of the windbreak." He wheeled, to look straight at her, his gaze level and somber.
"I had to do it--there was no other way.