A splutter of oaths was his reply, and an even greater effort to throw the white man off.
But the effort was unavailing. Then Kate saw something happen. The big white man changed his tactics. He desisted quite suddenly from belaboring his victim. He made no attempt to defend himself. He reached out his disengaged hand and added a second grip upon the man’s revolver arm. Then, with a terrific jolt, he flung himself backwards, so that he was left in a kneeling position upon the other’s middle. Then, in a second, with an agility absolutely staggering, he was on his feet. The next moment the other was jerked to his feet with his revolver arm twisted behind his back and nearly dislocated.
With a frantic yell of agony the half-breed’s hand relaxed its grip upon his revolver, and the weapon fell to the ground. The fight was over. With a mighty throw Pete Clancy was hurled headlong, and fell sprawling upon the ground at the foot of the barn wall, and his impact was like the result of a shot from a catapult.
“Lie there, you dirty dog!” cried Big Brother Bill, in a fury of breathless indignation. “That’ll maybe learn you a lesson not to get drinking rot gut, and, if you do, not to insult a white girl. You damnation nigger, for two beans I’d kick the life out of you where you lay.”
The man was scrambling to his feet, glaring an eternity of hatred at his white victor.
“Did he insult—Helen?”
Bill swung around with almost ludicrous abruptness. He had been utterly unaware of Kate’s presence.
He stared. Then, with a rush of passionate anger——
“Yes; but by God, he’ll think some before he does it again.”
Kate’s eyes were coldly commanding.