'Yes, to give you your deserts, you young rascal.'
The two men closed in a deadly struggle, and Jack, the lion roused within him, got the mastery, though his adversary fought in a more scientific way, as one who had been well accustomed to such conflicts.
Bryda stood by the old thorn tree too terrified to move, only entreating Jack to stop for her sake, only crying aloud in her despair to Mr Bayfield to stop.
But the fight grew ever fiercer and fiercer, and at last, with one mighty blow of his huge arm, Jack had his adversary at his feet, his knee on his chest, his hand at his throat.
So tremendous was the force with which the young giant had felled the Squire that his fall made a heavy thud on the hard road.
Just at this moment a storm-cloud came sweeping over the hillside, and hail fell in a thick, sharp shower.
'Swear you will leave her, swear you will not touch her again,' Jack gasped out, for he was breathless with rage and exertion.
But there was no answer. Suddenly Jack relaxed his hold, and rising, stood staring down at the inanimate form before him, on which the hail beat with blinding fury.
Bryda drew near, and clasping her hands, said,—
'You have killed him, Jack Henderson, you have killed him! Oh, God have mercy on you and on me!'