under. The force of its rush finished the work. The outlaw turned just
in time to see the hound disappear over the cliff.

Before he had time for exultation over this victory, before he could
look to see how fared the girl whom he had struck down so ruthlessly,
before he guessed the new peril, another enemy was upon him.

Zeke, too, had heard the baying of the hound. Trembling with
eagerness, where he lurked behind a screen of bushes at the south of
the grove, he knew that the dog was hot on the trail. He went racing
toward the sound, with the bull-terrier at his heels. He had just
entered among the trees, when he saw the hound careen past him. He
followed, and, as he issued into the open, saw the man and the girl
struggling on the edge of the precipice. He sickened at the spectacle,
but there was no faltering. With every atom of energy in speed, he
darted down the slope. He saw the blow that crumpled Plutina to the
rock. He saw it through a veil of red. What he did not see was the
low, stealthy, yet quickening, slide of her body toward the brim of
the abyss. So, all unconscious of that peril to the one he loved, he
sprang to attack his enemy. He saw the hound's fate, and understood
the cause of it. He, in turn, cleared the treacherous wet surface by a
mighty leap. That leap brought him full on the outlaw's back. The two
men went down together.

The crash of Hodges' head on the rock had well been enough to crack an
ordinary skull. But his was strong, and the unkempt thatch of hair
cushioned it, so that he got no serious hurt. A little dazed by the
blow, and by the unexpectedness of the onslaught--nothing more. And he
had the bravery of triumphant physical strength. In the instant of
attack, he fought back viciously, with blind thrust and clutch. A
long, powerful arm writhed around Zeke like a band of steel, and held
the assailant immovable. Lying there on his back, the outlaw looked up
into Zeke's face, and recognized it, and cursed this unexpected foe
obscenely.

Zeke wasted no energy in words. He was mad with rage against the man
he hated. His one desire was to kill. He twined his fingers in the
tangled hair, and beat the head upon the stone floor again and again.
But the leverage of his arms was cut down too much. He could not even
stun the outlaw, much less kill. He could not reach his rifle, which
he had dropped when he sprang to the attack. He could not draw his
revolver by reason of the encircling arms. He