_The Wild Ram of the Mountains_ Slight though his figure was, it was lithe and active and well-muscled, and he knew as they struggled that his assailant was possessed of no greater advantage than had lain in his point of attack.

In strength, apparently, they were well-matched.

Twice they rolled over on the carpeted floor, and then, despite the big, bony hands pressing about his throat, he turned his burden under him, and all but loosened the killing clutch.

This brought them close to the window, but again he was swiftly drawn underneath.

Then, as he felt his head must burst and his senses were failing from the deadly grip at his throat, his feet caught in the folds of the heavy curtain, and brought it down upon them in a cloud of dust.
As the light flooded in, he saw the truth, even before his now panting and sneezing antagonist did.