Sure enough, she heard footsteps along the sloping bank and felt the sagging of the boat as the man walked up the gangplank and stepped upon the bow of her little houseboat.
"Hello, girlee!" he hailed, pushing open the door, and stepping into the room.
She crouched in the low chair, her hands against her bosom. She glared up into his eyes with an expression which bade him pause, but he did not heed it.
"Hello, girlee!" he repeated, turning to close the door. He walked across the room toward another chair, adding, "I thought I'd come visiting, knowing you wouldn't mind!"
As he reached to the back of the other chair she drew her automatic pistol and fired.
"Agrrah!" he grunted, and then with a cry he backed away, saying: "You've shot me! Damn you, you've shot me!"
He turned, and seeing the stern door swinging partly open, he dashed toward it, flung it wide, and leaped from the deck. After the splash she heard him floundering away from the boat.
She stood surprised by what she had done. It was unbelievable, incredible. She had been attacked by a man, and she had driven him from her! She had not been obliged to flee from him!
