-handed blow behind his ear, and
followed it up with a tremendous kick, which sent the fellow upon his
face in the ditch under the rocks. Clare looked on, and her eyes
brightened singularly, for she had fighting blood in her veins. The man
seemed stunned, and lay still where he had fallen. Johnstone turned to
the fallen mule, which lay bleeding and gasping under the shafts, and he
began to unbuckle the harness.

"Could you put a big stone behind the wheel?" he asked, as Clare tried
to help him.

He knew that the cart must roll back if it were not blocked, for he had
noticed how it stood. Clare looked about for a stone, picked one up by
the roadside, and went to the back of the cart, while Johnstone patted
the mule's head, and busied himself with the buckles of the harness,
bending low as he did so. Clare also bent down, trying to force the
stone under the wheel, and did not notice that the carter was sitting up
by the roadside, feeling for something in his pocket.

An instant later he was on his feet. When Clare stood up, he was
stepping softly up behind Johnstone. As he moved, she saw that he had an
open clasp-knife in his right hand. Johnstone was still bending down
unconscious of his danger. The young girl was light on her feet and
quick, and not cowardly. The man was before her, halfway between her and
Brook. She sprang with all her might, threw her arms round the drunken
man's neck from behind, and dragged him backward. He struck wildly
behind him with the knife, and roared out curses.

"Quick!" cried Clare, in her high, clear voice. "He's got a knife!
Quick!"

But Johnstone had heard their steps, and was already upon him from
before, while the young girl's arms tightened round his neck from
behind. The fellow struck about him wildly with his blade, staggering
backwards as Clare dragged upon him.

"Let go, or you'll fall!" Brook shouted to her.

As he spoke, dodging the knife, he struck the man twice in the face,
left and right, in an earnest, business-like way. Clare caught herself
by the wheel of the cart as she sprang aside, almost falling under the
man's weight. A moment later, Brook was kneeling on his chest, having
the knife in his hand and holding it near the carter's throat.

"Lie still!" he said rather quietly, in English. "Give me the halter,
please!" he said to Clare, without looking up. "It's hanging to the
shaft there in a coil."

Kneeling on the man's chest--to tell the truth, he was badly