forearm shot under his shoulder and a hand fastened on the back of his
neck in an incomplete half-Nelson. As McTee applied the pressure,
Harrigan felt his vertebral column give under the tremendous strain. He
struggled furiously but could not break the grip. Far away, like the
storm wind in the forest, he heard the moan of the wolf pack.

"Give in! Give in!" panted McTee.

"Ah-h!" snarled Harrigan.

He felt the deck swing and jerked his legs high in the air. He could
not have broken that grip of his own strength, but the sway of the deck
gave his movement a mighty leverage. The hand slipped from his neck,
scraping skin away, as if a red-hot iron had been drawn across the
flesh. But he was half loosed, and that twist of his body sent them
both rolling one over the other to the scuppers of the ship--and it was
McTee who crashed against the rail, receiving the blow on the back of
his head. His eyes went dull; the red hands of Harrigan fastened on his
throat.

"God!" screamed McTee, and gripped Harrigan's wrists, but the Irishman
heaved him up and beat his head against the deck.

McTee's jaws fell open, and a bloody froth bubbled to his
lips; his eyes thrust out hideously.

"Ah-h!" snarled Harrigan, and shifted his grip lower, his thumbs
digging relentlessly into the great throat. This time the giant limbs
of the captain relaxed as if in sleep. Then through the fierce singing
in his ears the Irishman heard a yell. He turned his head. The wolf