astened itself like the claw of a panther in his long hair, with a grip
that not only could not be shaken off, but which threatened to create a
general loosening at the roots.

_That_ was the left hand of Dinah.

At the same moment, when the dazed Comanche had half risen and was
striving to get the hang of things, a vice closed immovably about his
left ankle, and his moccasin was raised almost as high as his shoulder.

The agency in this business was the _right_ hand of Dinah; and instantly
she got in her work with the vigor of a hurricane. She possessed unusual
power and activity, though it must not be supposed that the Comanche
would not have given a good account of himself had he but possessed a
second's warning of what was coming. He had a knife at his girdle,
though his rifle, as has been said, was left behind with his companions,
since his business did not make it likely that he would need anything of
the kind, and it was an inconvenience to keep it by him.

"You onmannerly willian! I'll teach you how to try to sneak frough de
roof into my room!" muttered Dinah, who was now thoroughly aroused, "yer
orter have your neck wringed off and _I'll do it_!"

The Comanche was at vast disadvantage in being seized with such a fierce
grip by the hair, which kept his face turned away from his assailant,
while the vicelike grasp of his ankle compelled him to hop about on one
foot, in a style that was as awkward as it was undignified. He realized,
too, that despite all he could do to prevent it, his foe was forcing him
remorselessly toward the edge of the roof.

But the warrior was sinewy and strong. He had been engaged in many a
desperate hand-to-hand encounter, though never in anything resembling
this. Finding the grip on his hair and ankle could not be shaken off,
he snatched out his keen-pointed knife with the intention of striking
one of his vicious back-handed blows, which had proved fatal more than
once, but just then the eaves were reached and over he went!

CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE MESQUITE BUSH.

We must not forget our young friend, Avon Burnet, who volunteered so
willingly to run every risk for the sake of helping his relatives out of
the most imminent peril of their lives.

At the moment he saw Captain Shirril start forward to smother the fire,
by throwing one of his heavy blankets over it, he lifted the heavy bolt
from its place, and leaned it against the wall at the side of the door.
Having decided