is heavy frame against the door.

Crash! The door was burst from its fastenings.

Girty leaped up with startled yell, drawing his knife as he rose. It
had not time to descend before Joe's second spring, more fierce even
than the other, carried him directly on top of the renegade. As the
two went down Joe caught the villain's wrist with a grip that
literally cracked the bones. The knife fell and rolled away from the
struggling men. For an instant they tumbled about on the floor,
clasped in a crushing embrace. The renegade was strong, supple,
slippery as an eel. Twice he wriggled from his foe. Gnashing his
teeth, he fought like a hyena. He was fighting for life--life, which
is never so dear as to a coward and a murderer. Doom glared from
Joe's big eyes, and scream after scream issued from the renegade's
white lips.

Terrible was this struggle, but brief. Joe seemingly had the
strength of ten men. Twice he pulled Girty down as a wolf drags a
deer. He dashed him against the wall, throwing him nearing and
nearer the knife. Once within reach of the blade Joe struck the
renegade a severe blow on the temple and the villain's wrestling
became weaker. Planting his heavy knee on Girty's breast, Joe
reached for the knife, and swung it high. Exultantly he cried, mad
with lust for the brute's blood.

But the slight delay saved Girty's life.

The knife was knocked from Joe's hand and he leaped erect to find
himself confronted by Silvertip. The chief held a tomahawk with
which he had struck the weapon from the young man's grasp, and, to
judge from his burning eyes and malignant smile, he meant to brain
the now defenseless paleface.

In a single fleeting instant Joe saw that Girty was helpless for the
moment, that Silvertip was confident of his revenge, and that the
situation called for Wetzel's characteristic advice, "act like
lightnin'."

Swifter than the thought was the leap he made past Silvertip. It
carried him to a wooden bar which lay on the floor. Escape was easy,
for the door was before him and the Shawnee behind, but Joe did not
flee! He seized the bar and rushed at the Indian. Then began a duel
in which the savage's quickness and cunning matched the white man's
strength and fury. Silvertip dodged the vicious swings Joe aimed at
him; he parried many blows, any one of which would have crushed his
skull. Nimble as a cat, he avoided every rush, while his dark eyes
watched for an opening. He fought wholly on the defensiv