" CHAPTER IX. I can't invent; the thing won't come. Taking a firm grasp of his pistol, Gerald eased back, let go the handle of the door, and at the same instant, swung his booted foot. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. They will claim particular attention hereafter. "Are you sure these bars touch the ground?" "They come within a yard of it," answered Jonathan. ’ So that was it. CHAPTER IX. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. You need not be afraid.
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