I'll cut your heart out, chop it up, an' feed it to the buzzards," he said fiercely, concluding his threat by striking Jim a cruel blow on the head.
Joe paled deathly white at this cowardly action, and his eyes, as they met the gaze of the ruffian, contracted with their characteristic steely glow, as if some powerful force within the depths of his being were at white heat and only this pale flash came to the surface.
"You ain't a preacher ?" questioned the man, meeting something in Joe's glance that had been absent from Jim's.
Joe made no answer, and regarded questioner steadily.
"Ever see me afore?
Ever hear of Jim Girty ?" he asked boastfully.
"Before you spoke I knew you were Girty," answered Joe quietly.
"How d'you know?
Ain't you afeared ?" "Of what ?" "Me--me ?" Joe laughed in the renegades face.
"How'd you knew me ?" growled Girty.

"I'll see thet you hev cause to remember me after this." "I figured there was only one so-called white man in these woods who is coward enough to strike a man whose hands are tied." "Boy, ye're too free with your tongue.

I'll shet off your wind." Girty's hand was raised, but it never reached Joe's neck.
The big Indian had an hour or more previous cut Joe's bonds, but he still retained the thong which was left attached to Joe's left wrist.

This allowed the young man free use of his right arm, which, badly swollen or not, he brought into quick action.
When the renegade reached toward him Joe knocked up the hand, and, instead of striking, he grasped the hooked nose with all the powerful grip of his fingers.

Girty uttered a frightful curse; he writhed with pain, but could not free himself from the vise-like clutch.