Oh, I'll watch you die at the stake, you sneaking white cur, and spit in your face!" "Kirby," I said sternly, but quietly, stepping directly across toward him, "I've heard what you said, and that is enough.

You are a prisoner, and helpless, but I am going to tell you now to hold your tongue.

Otherwise you will never see me at the stake, because I shall blow your brains out where you lie.

One more word, and I am going to rid this world of its lowest specimen of a human being." "You dare not do--" "And why not?
You promise me death either way; what have I to lose then by sending you first?
It will rid the girl of you, and that means something to me--and her.

Just try me, and see." He must have read the grim meaning in my face, for he fell back against the log, muttering incoherently, his dark eyes wells of hate, his face a picture of malignancy, but utterly helpless--the lurking coward in him, unable to face my threat.