"No, Kate, go on--we won't interfere.

You had better seize him." "No," she replied, "let him begin first, if he dar." "Howl me," shouted Philip, "she'll only be killed." Another peal of laughter was the sole reply given to this by the brothers.

"He's goin'," they exclaimed, "he's gone--the white fedher's in him--it's all over wid him--he's afeerd of her, an' not for nothing either--ha! ha! ha! more power, Kate!" Stung by the contemptuous derision contained in this language, Philip was stepping back in order to give himself proper room for a blow, when, on the very instant that he moved, Kate, uttering something between a howl and a yell, dashed her huge hands into his throat--which was, as is usual with tinkers, without a cravat--and in a moment a desperate and awful struggle took place between them.

Strong as Philip was, he found himself placed perfectly on the defensive by the terrific grip which this furious opponent held of his throat.

So powerful was it, indeed, that not a single instant was allowed him for the exercise of any aggressive violence against her by a blow, all his strength being directed to unclasp her hands from his throat that he might be permitted to breathe.