Then he felt for his
pistol. The holster was empty.
He could hear the panting of the girl, her sobbing breath very near him,
and life and strength leaped back into his body. The man who had choked
him was advancing again, on hands and knees. In a flash Alan was up and
on him like a lithe cat. His fist beat into a bearded face; he called
out to Mary as he struck, and through his blows saw her where she had
fallen to her knees, with a second hulk bending over her, almost in the
water of the little spring from which she had been drinking. A mad curse
leaped from his lips. He was ready to kill now; he wanted to kill--to
destroy what was already under his hands that he might leap upon this
other beast, who stood over Mary Standish, his hands twisted in her long
hair. Dazed by blows that fell with the force of a club the bearded
man's head sagged backward, and Alan's fingers dug into his throat. It
was a bull's neck. He tried to break it. Ten seconds--twenty--half a
minute at the most--and flesh and bone would have given way--but before
the bearded man's gasping cry was gone from his lips the second figure
leaped upon Alan.
He had no time to defend himself from this new attack. His strength was
half gone, and a terrific blow sent him reeling. Blindly he reached out
and grappled.
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