John Fox was not a coward, but as he looked up at the stern face of the Quaker detective he quailed, almost for the first time in his life. He tried to rise, but the heavy foot of Luke Robbins was on his breast.
“Let me up!” he growled.
“You don’t deserve to get up! You shall lie there forever for your cowardice in attacking a woman!”
“I would rather it had been you!” said John Fox bitterly.
“You are safe in attacking a woman,” said the detective in scornful sarcasm.
The outlaw was stung by his assailant’s scorn.
“I have attacked many better men than you,” he replied, “and some have not lived to tell the tale!”
“So you own up to being a murderer? I am ready to believe you. I have a great mind to shoot you where you lie!” and Luke pointed his revolver at the prostrate outlaw.
“That would be the act of a coward,” said John Fox, hastily, his cheek turning pale.
“Not exactly that, for I have mastered you in a fair fight, but there is one thing that holds back my hand. Do you know what it is?”