Releasing the pressure from his throat with a sudden access of strength born of the new knowledge, he managed to gasp, though thickly and with pain, as they still strove: "Seth Wright--wait--let go--wait, Seth--I'm Joel--Joel Rae!" He managed it with difficulty.
"Joel Rae--Rae--Rae--don't you see ?" He felt the other's tension relax.

With many a panting, puffing "Hey!" and "What's that now ?" he was loosed, and drew himself up into a chair by the saving window.

His assailant, a hale, genial-faced man of forty, sat on the floor where the revelation of his victim's identity had overtaken him.

He was breathing hard and feeling tenderly of his neck.
This was ruffled ornamentally by a style of whisker much in vogue at the time.

It had proved, however, but an inferior defense against the onslaught of the younger man in his frantic efforts to save his own neck.
They looked at each other in panting amazement, until the older man recovered his breath, and spoke: "Gosh and all beeswax! The Wild Ram of the Mountains a-settin' on the Lute of the Holy Ghost's stomach a-chokin' him to death.