The
soldiers had fired in the air.
"But this is a stupid game," said Benham. "Why did they fire at
all?"
The tall man who had led the mob had run out into the middle of the
road. His commando was a little disposed to assume a marginal
position, and it had to be reassured. He was near enough for Benham
to see his face. For a time it looked anxious and thoughtful. Then
he seemed to jump to his decision. He unbuttoned and opened his
coat wide as if defying the soldiers. "Shoot," he bawled, "Shoot,
if you dare!"
A little uniform movement of the soldiers answered him. The small
figure of the officer away there was inaudible. The coat of the man
below flapped like the wings of a crowing cock before a breast of
dirty shirt, the hoarse voice cracked with excitement, "Shoot, if
you dare. Shoot, if you dare! See!"
Came the metallic bang of the carbines again, and in the instant the
leader collapsed in the road, a sprawl of clothes, hit by half a
dozen bullets. It was an extraordinary effect. As though the
figure had been deflated.
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