Just when the teamster had pulled her close to him, and was bending
his red, moist face to hers, two brown, sinewy hands grasped his
neck with an angry clutch. Deprived thus of breath, his mouth
opened, his tongue protruded; his eyes seemed starting from their
sockets, and his arms beat the air. Then he was lifted and flung
with a crash against the cabin wall. Falling, he lay in a heap on
the grass, while the blood flowed from a cut on his temple.

"What's this?" cried a man, authoritatively. He had come swiftly up,
and arrived at the scene where stood the grizzled frontiersman.

"It was purty handy, Wentz. I couldn't hev' did better myself, and I
was comin' for that purpose," said the frontiersman. "Leffler was
tryin' to kiss the lass. He's been drunk fer two days. That little
girl's sweetheart kin handle himself some, now you take my word on
it."

"I'll agree Leff's bad when he's drinkin'," answered the fur-trader,
and to Joe he added, "He's liable to look you up when he comes
around."

"Tell him if I am here when he gets sober, I'll kill him," Joe cried
in a sharp voice. His gaze rested once more on the fallen teamster,
and again an odd contraction of his eyes was noticeable. The glance
was cutting, as if with the flash of cold gray steel. "Nell, I'm
sorry I wasn't round sooner," he said, apologetically, as if it was
owing to his neglect the affair had happened.

As they entered the cabin Nell stole a glance at him. This was the