“You fiends! You fiends! Oh, I hope I’ll see you hanged for this! What does it mean! Shooting Black Eagle down like a wolf—or—or a beast! And he was more a decent man than all three of you!”
With a curse upon the boy, Duff sprang forward and bore him down. Together they fell heavily, the murderer foaming at the mouth like a mad dog, in the violence of his rage, his evil, disfigured face almost black and horrible to behold, while his companions stood aghast.
“Don’t get us into no trouble, Duff! You don’t know what yer doin’ when yer blood’s up!” Dexter protested, hurrying to the combatants and trying to draw his villainous companion away, the man and boy rolling over and over in their fierce struggle.
“Make short work of it, Duff, whatever you do! There’s another o’ them boys, an’ he may be here any minute—an’ Injuns, too!” yelled Quilling, the landlord, jumping about in his fear and excitement, and ending with—“Fight it out, dang ye! Ye’ve had a noose round yer neck ’fore now, but nobody kin say I killed the boy!”
And with these words the fellow threw his rifle over his shoulder and ran.
“Won’t do no good to kill him—won’t do no good, Duff,” Dexter kept gasping, still trying to pull his friend away, though his efforts were puny as a child’s.
“Curse you—curse you for two cowardly fools!” Duff yelled, again and again, vainly trying to get his hands on John Jerome’s throat. And then he looked to see whither Quilling had retreated.
The boy, struggling beneath the man’s greater weight, needed no better opportunity. He managed to get one foot quickly free and letting it drive with all his force against his assailant’s middle, sent the fellow rolling upon the ground.
The next second John was upon his feet, his rifle at his shoulder. Dexter was already running to overtake the fleeing landlord, and Duff, picking himself up, looked first at John, then at his runaway friends.
“Boy,” he said, slowly and distinctly, in tones more of deep, deliberate hate than anger, “I was minded to kill you the night you spied on us at that dirty hole of Quilling’s. There are reasons why I am going to let you go again”—