Her hands had crept
convulsively to his neck. He crushed his face down against hers,
and waited. It came to him suddenly that Blake must be reckoning
on this very protection which he was giving Celie. He was gambling
on the chance that while the male defenders of the cabin would be
wounded or killed Celie would be sheltered until the last moment
from their fire. If that was so, the firing would soon cease until
Blake learned results.
Scarcely had he made this guess when the fusillade ended. Instead
of rifle-fire there came a sudden strange howl of voices and Olaf
sprang to his feet. Philip had risen, when the Swede's voice came
to him in a choking cry. Prepared for the rush he had expected,
Olaf was making an observation through the gun-crevice. Suddenly,
without turning his head, he yelled back at them:
"Good God--it's Bram--Bram Johnson!"
Even Celie realized the thrilling import of the Swede's excited
words. BRAM JOHNSON! She was only a step behind Philip when he
reached the wall. With him she looked out.
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