The visitor, enraged at this unexpected interference, grew violent. He turned upon Jack Harding, and drew his gun; but Jack, sober and alert, knocked the gun from his hand; and, closing with him, dealt terrific blows in his face. All the brute in the drunken man roused. The sober man had the advantage. The struggle lasted but a few moments, though it seemed an eternity to the frightened girls. Finally, Jack Harding placed his knees on Kelwin's chest and arms, his hand on his throat, choking him until he gasped for mercy. Then the cowboy let him rise. As soon as he was free, he began to curse Carla Earle. Jack Harding promptly knocked him down. Partly sobered, the man rose, and staggered from the room.
Carla stood trembling, her face white with fear.
Harding saw her distress, and said with unusual gentleness:
"Don't ye care, Miss Carla. 'Tain't so, anyway. He lied. He'll pay for it."
"Oh, don't meddle with him, I beg you," she said with sudden alarm. "He might shoot you."
"Shoot? Let him. But he can't insult any decent woman, while I'm near to protect her. Mark that."
Carla turned to resume her duties, but fell in a limp heap on the floor. Then Edith and Jack Harding worked to bring her to. At last her eyes opened. She looked around, dazed, bewildered. When she realized what had happened, she asked:
"Has that dreadful man gone?"
On being assured that he was at a safe distance, she tried to rise, but her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor again.
So Jack and Edith prepared the evening meal, and waited. At last they heard the sound of the returning carriage, and, a few moments later, welcomed the party at the gate.