He fought like a fiend, gouging and snapping to make me break my hold, but I only clung the closer, twisting one hand free, and driving my fist into his face.

At last I gripped his pistol, wrenched it forth, and struck with the butt.

He sank back, limp and breathless, and I rose to my knees looking down into the upturned face.

Almost at the moment her hand touched my shoulder.
"Is he dead?
Have you killed him ?" "Far from it," I answered gladly.

"He is merely stunned, and will revive presently, but with a sad headache.