Before the startled cry on his lips found utterance he flung himself face downward in the snow.

The move saved him, and as the other stumbled over his body, pitching headlong into the trail, he snatched forth his revolver.

Before he could fire there came a roar like that of a beast from behind him and a terrific blow fell on his head.

Under the weight of a second assailant he was crushed to the snow, his pistol slipped from his grasp, and two great hands choked a despairing cry from his throat.

He saw a face over him, distorted with passion, a huge neck, eyes that named like angry garnets.