rful, inarticulate note of blood-hunger at his ear.
The Canadian's clenched hands crushed whatever they fell upon as if
mailed with metal; the fingers were like tearing tongs that could not
be loosed. It was a frightful combat, hideous from its inequality, like
the battle of a man against a maddened beast whose teeth tore and whose
claws ripped, whose every move was irresistible. And so it was over
shortly.

Poleon rose and ran to the fallen girl, leaving behind him a huddled
and twisted likeness of a man. He picked her up tenderly, moaning and
crooning; but as her limp head lolled back, throwing her pale, blind
features up to the heavens, he began to cry, this time like a woman.
Tears fell from his eyes, burning tears, the agony of which seared his
soul. He laid her carefully beside the water's edge, and, holding her
head and shoulders in the crook of his left arm, he wet his right hand
and bathed her face, crouching over her, half nude, dripping with the
sweat of his great labors, a tender, palpitating figure of bronzed
muscle and sinew, with all his fury and hate replaced by apprehension
and pity. The short moments that he worked with her were ages to him,
but she revived beneath his ministrations, and her first frightened
look of consciousness was changed to a melting smile.

"W-what happened, Poleon?" she said. "I was afraid!"

He stood up to his full height, shaking, and weak as the water that
dripped from him, the very bones in him dissolved. For the first time
he uttered words.

"T'ank God, ba gosh!" and ran his hand up over his wet face.

"Where is he?" She started to her knees affrightedly; then, seeing the
twisted, sprawling figure beyond, began to shudder. "He--he's dead?"

"I don' know," said Poleon, carelessly. "You feel it purty good now,
eh, w'at?"

"Yes--I--he struck me!" The remembrance of what had occurred surged
over her, and she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Poleon! Poleon! He
was a dreadful man."

"He don' trouble you no more."

"He tried--he--Ugh! I--I'm glad you did it!" She broke down, trembling
at her escape, until her selfishness smote her, and she was up and
beside him on the instant. "Are you hurt? Oh, I never thought of that.
You must be wounded!"

The Frenchman felt himself over, and looked down at his limbs for the
first time, "No! I guess not," he said, at which Necia noticed his
meagre attire, and simultaneously he became conscious of it. He fell
away a pace, casting h