She saw the Indian's fatal grip upon her preserver's throat, the whitening face and wide-open eyes, and with a great, sobbing cry she caught up the fallen club and brought it down with all her strength upon the redskin's head.
Twice, three times the club rose and fell, and the grip on Rod's throat relaxed.

A fourth time it rose, but this time was caught from behind, and a huge hand clutched the brave girl's throat so that the cry on her lips died in a gasp.

But the relief gave Rod his opportunity.

With a tremendous effort he reached his pistol holster, drew out the gun, and pressed it close up against his assailant's body.

There was a muffled report and with a shriek of agony the Indian pitched backward.