“It is a man, after all,” she murmured. “Perhaps I would have done better to have let him overtake me, for it seems he fights against these villains. Perhaps he is mad, poor creature!”
“Let’s make a rush on him altogether, boys,” whispered Garrett. “Curse it, five men ought to whip one.”
“But he’s got the rifles, the critter,” whined Tracey. “I tell you that if you had been in his grip once, you wouldn’t be so ready to try him again. He’s got a hold like an iron vice, that devil has.”
“Don’t try to run,” cried the Forest Fiend. “It will not be safe; he who flies first, dies first!”
“What do you want from us?” screamed Garrett. “Do you know who I am, curse you?”
“I know you,” replied the strange being, wildly. “You are a murderer and a robber, and deserve death for a hundred crimes. Why don’t you come on? what are you afraid of? You tremble at the sight of the Forest Fiend, murderer that you are.”
“Won’t you back me, boys?” hissed Garrett; “I tell you I’ll be the first to rush at him, if you will agree to follow.”
“He can kill three of us before we get within striking distance,” replied Jack Fish. “I guess we had better give up boys; maybe he’ll let us off.”
Garrett heard what he said, and thrusting his hand into the bosom of his hunting-shirt, drew a long double-barreled pistol, his eyes gleaming with rage.
“You’d turn traitor, would you?” he screamed. “Now see here, rush on that devil, you and Tracey, or I shoot you where you stand.”