A knife was poised above Frank's heart, and in another moment the blade would have been buried to the hilt in the lad's bosom.
Without uttering a sound, Kate Kenyon grasped the wrist of the murderous-minded man, gave it a wrench with all her strength, which was not slight, and forced him to drop the knife.
"You don't murder anybody, Wade Miller!" she panted.
"I'll choke ther life outen him!" snarled the fellow, as he tried to fasten both hands on Frank's throat.
By this time the boy had recovered from the surprise and shock, and he was ready to fight for his life.
Kate grasped the assailant by the collar, and, with astonishing strength, pulled him off the prostrate lad.
In the twinkling of an eye, Frank came to his feet, and he was ready for a new assault.
Snarling and growling like a mad dog, the man scrambled up and lunged toward the boy, trying to grasp him.
Frank was a skillful boxer, and now his skill came into play, for he dodged under the man's right arm, whirled like a cat, and struck the fellow behind the ear.
Spat! sounded the blow, sending the assailant staggering, and Frank followed it up by leaping after him and striking him again, the second blow having the force of the lad's strength and the weight of his body.