hing seemed to snap in Martin's mind at this sight. Gone was his
caution, forgotten his plan. With a hoarse, wordless cry, he cleared
the cave entrance with a bound, and threw himself forward towards his
enemy.

Carew was still a score of paces distant from the cave mouth. But so
startled was he by the sudden appearance of the charging, hostile
figure, that Martin had covered half the intervening distance ere Wild
Bob's sagging mouth closed. But by then Carew had recognized the
oncomer, and realized his danger. He took snap aim with his weapon,
and fired point blank at Martin.

The bullet seared Martin's cheek. Behind him, Little Billy, just
emerging from the cave in Martin's wake, stopped short in his tracks,
clutched at his poor, disfigured breast, and sank slowly to the ground.

Before Carew could shoot again, Ruth reached up her hands and clawed
his face. Screaming a curse, Carew threw her from him and staggered
back a step.

But Martin was closed with him now. He had Carew's wrist, wrenching
it, and the weapon dropped to the sand. He had Carew's throat in his
clutch. He was pressing, pressing, forcing the man back.

It was the very fury of his headlong, unreasoned assault that gave
Martin initial victory. He was not as large as Carew, nor as strong.
But at the moment he had the strength of three men in his body. He was
berserk. He had no craft in his fighting; only blind rage and the
strength it gave him. His hands were at the throat of the most hateful
thing in the world--the man who had harmed loved ones, the man who
tried to steal his woman.

Carew's fists battered at Martin's unguarded face. Martin did not even
feel these blows. He squeezed and squeezed that cursed neck. Carew
gave ground. He bent backwards. His glaring eyes were popping; his
mouth was open. He was down.

And then something happened to Martin. He was conscious of pain, of
sudden, paralyzing pain that pervaded his whole body. The strength
left his fingers; he felt his entire body giving way, slumping weakly.

Now he was on his back, and fingers were at his throat. Carew's face
loomed above him, red, contorted, the lips curled into a fiendish
snarl, an insane murderous light in his eyes. Martin was choking; a
tremendous weight was on his chest. In Carew's hand was a knife
descending. Above the ringing in his ears, Martin heard Carew's voice
saying, "You shall not have her!"

A sudden roar filled his ears. The