The single straightening of his arm sent Miller backward over a bench to the floor with a crashing sound.

Miller rose with some difficulty and stood with one hand to his head.
"Lew, don't draw your knife," cried Betty as she saw Wetzel's hand go inside his hunting shirt.

She had thrown herself in front of him as Miller got to his feet.

With both little hands she clung to the brawny arm of the hunter, but she could not stay it.

Wetzel's hand slipped to his belt.
"For God's sake, Lew, do not kill him," implored Betty, gazing horror-stricken at the glittering eyes of the hunter.