at for weapon of some kind. But Kurt, in a rush, knocked him over the
front guard. Nash howled. He scrambled up with bloody mouth. Kurt was on
him again.

"Take that!" cried Kurt, low and hard, as he swung his arm. The big fist
that had grasped so many plow-handles took Nash full on that bloody
mouth and laid him flat. "Come on, German! Get out of the trench!"

Like a dog Nash thrashed and crawled, scraping his hands in the dirt, to
jump up and fling a rock that Kurt ducked by a narrow margin. Nash
followed it, swinging wildly, beating at his adversary.

Passion long contained burst in Kurt. He tasted the salt of his own
blood where he had bitten his lips. Nash showed as in a red haze. Kurt
had to get his hands on this German, and when he did it liberated a
strange and terrible joy in him. No weapon would have sufficed. Hardly
aware of Nash's blows, Kurt tore at him, swung and choked him, bore him
down on the bank, and there beat him into a sodden, bloody-faced heap.

Only then did a cry of distress, seemingly from far off, pierce Kurt's
ears. Miss Anderson was pulling at him with frantic hands.

"Oh, don't kill him! Please don't kill him!" she was crying. "Kurt!--for
my sake, don't kill him!"

That last poignant appeal brought Kurt to his senses. He let go of Nash.
He allowed the girl to lead him back. Panting hard, he tried to draw a
deep, full breath.

"Oh, he doesn't move!" whispered Lenore, with wide eyes on Nash.

"Miss Anderson--he's not--even insensible," panted Kurt. "But he's
licked--good and hard."

The girl leaned against the side of the car, with a hand buried in her
heaving breast. She was recovering. The gray shade left her face. Her
eyes, still wide and dark and beginning to glow with softer emotions,
were upon Kurt.

"You--you were the one to come," she murmured. "I prayed. I was terribly
frightened. Ruenke was taking me--to the I.W.W. camp, up in the hills."

"Ruenke?" queried Kurt.

"Yes, that's his German name."

Kurt awoke to the exigencies of the situation. Searching in the car, he
found a leather belt. With this he securely bound Ruenke's hands behind
his back, then rolled him down into the road.

"My first German prisoner," said Kurt, half seriously. "Now, Miss
Anderson, we must be doing things. We don't want to meet a lot of
I.W.W.'s out here. My car is out of commission. I hope yours is not
broken."

Kurt got into the car and found, to his satisfaction, that it was not
damage