"What manner of man is he, Dan? He's not all brute; why does he treat you like this?"
The Irishman smiled.
She cried with increasing anger: "What can I do?"
"Make your skin yellow an' your hair gray an' walk with no spring in your step. He wants to break me now because of you."
There was moist pity in her eyes, yet they gleamed with excitement at the thought of this battle of the Titans for her sake.
"I will go to him," she said after a moment, "and tell him that you mean nothing to me. Then he will stop."
The cold, incurious eyes studied her without passion, and once more he smiled.
"He'll not stop. Whether you like me or not, Kate, doesn't count. One of us'll go down, an' you'll be for the one that's left. He knows it—I know it."
"Harrigan!" called the voice of McTee from the bridge, and the tall
Scotchman lifted his cap to Kate.
"I'm the slave," said Harrigan, "and there's the whip. Good-by."