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The stamping of feet inside the house continued. Once there was

the sound of an exploding revolver. After a long time a heavy

figure struggled into view through the roof-trap. It was Dunke

himself. He caught sight of the ladder, gave a shout of triumph,

and was off in pursuit of his flying prey. As others appeared on

the roof they, too, took up the chase, a long line of indistinct

running figures.

There were other women on the street now, most of them Mexicans,

so that Margaret attracted little attention. She moved up

opposite the house that had become the scene of action, expecting

every moment to hear the shots that would determine the fate of

the victims.