"The packet!" he panted, "— quick, yeh dirty little cat, 'r'I'll break yeh head off'n yeh damn neck!"
She bit at the hand that he held crushed against her mouth. He lifted her bodily, flung her onto the bed, and, twisting sheet and quilt around her, swathed her to the throat.
Still controlling her violently distorted lips with his left hand and holding her so, one knee upon her, he reached back, unsheathed his hunting knife, and pricked her throat till the blood spurted.
"Now, gol ram yet!" he whispered fiercely, "where's Mike's packet?
Yell, and I'll hog-stick yeh fur fair! Where is it, you dum thing!"
He took his left hand from her mouth. The distorted, scarlet lips writhed back, displaying her white teeth clenched.
"Where's Mike's bundle!" he repeated, hoarse with rage and fear.
"You rat!" she gasped.
At that he closed her mouth again, and again he pricket her with his knife, cruelly. The blood welled up onto the sheets.
"Now, by God!" he said in a ghastly voice, "answer or I'll hog-stick yeh next time! Where is it? Where! where!"
She only showed her teeth in answer. Her eyes flamed.