ut off
Harris released the grip of his other hand, and Gardiner instantly
took advantage of this move to bring both arms to bear on Harris's
throat. Things began to go badly with the farmer; face downwards on
the floor, he was unable to shake his adversary off, and was losing
strength rapidly with his choking. Gardiner no longer sought an
opportunity to break away; his blood was up and he was in the fight
to the finish, ruled at last by his heart instead of his head. Had he
been content merely to retain his present advantage, unconsciousness
would soon have overcome his victim, but he tried to improve his
grip, and the attempt proved disastrous. His thumb, seeking better
vantage, fell into Harris's gasping mouth. Harris was no more
depraved than most of mankind, but when fighting for life, and
choking to death in the hands of an unknown enemy, he was ready to
seize any advantage, and with a great effort he brought his jaws
together upon the intruder.

With a yell of pain Gardiner sprang to his feet, jerking the farmer
into a half-sitting posture as he did so, and Harris, with a great
gasp for air, relinquished his sudden and unexpected advantage. But
Gardiner's head was again in command; he rushed through the door,
half falling over the obstruction as he went, and in an instant was
lost in the gloom of the night.

For some minutes Harris lay on the floor, recovering his breath. As
the oxygen welled back into his lungs he began to realize that, save
for his choking, he was unhurt. With returning strength his thought
reverted to Allan, and, calling the boy's name, he sprang to his
feet. The first thing was to get a light. He found matches in his
pocket, struck one, and peered eagerly into the gloom as its
flickering flame beat back the darkness. A blanket, rolled and
stained, lay in the doorway, and within it was a figure that might
once have been a man. Harris's heart almost stopped at the sight:
"Allan," he gasped, "my boy, Allan!" He tiptoed across the crumbling
floor toward it, holding the match before him. A man's boot and part
of a trouser leg protruded from the mass. He held the match downward,
leaning over them. They were not Allan's.

"Thank God," he murmured, swelling with a great hope, "thank God for
that."

He struck another match and found the lantern. When he had lighted it
he surveyed the little building, and saw Allan's gun lying at the end
farthest from the door. Not until that moment did he think o