wn great bulk lay atop of him. But the
man's arms were free. There was a moment's desperate pause as they
fell, and it was that pause which robbed the gunman of his chance of
accomplishing the murder he had designed. Kars knew his man on the
instant. The voice was the voice of Louis Creal, the half-breed who
had warned him of the danger of Bell River. He could have laughed had
not the moment been too desperate.

On the instant of impact with the ground Kars released his hold of the
man's body, and with catlike agility hurled himself at the man's
throat. With the threat of the revolver over him there remained only
one means of defence. He must paralyze all action even if he killed
the man under his hands. Physically his assailant was no match for
him, but the gun leveled things up.

His great hands closed on the man's throat like a vice. It was a
strangle hold that knew no mercy. He reared his body up and his grip
tightened. The Breed struggled fiercely. He flung up his gun arm and
fired recklessly. The first shot flew high into the air but the scorch
of the fire stung the face of the man over him. A second shot came.
It cut its way through the thick muscles of Kars' neck. He winced
under its hot slither, but his grip only further tightened on the man's
throat.

Then came collapse with hideous suddenness. With a choking gurgle the
Breed's arms dropped nervelessly to the ground and the revolver fell
from his relaxed grip. On the instant the white man released his hold.
He caught up the gun and flung it wide.

He had won out. The cost to him did not matter. He stood up and gazed
down at the man on the ground. He was still--quite still. Then he
searched his own pockets for a handkerchief. The only one he possessed
had been set to precious use. He rejected it. So he bent over the
prostrate Breed and unfastened the colored handkerchief about his neck.
This he proceeded to fasten about the flesh wound in his own neck, for
the blood flowing from it was saturating his clothes.

A moment later the half-breed stirred. It was what the white man had
awaited. The sight of the movement brought a sigh of relief. He was
glad he had not been forced to become the slayer of the man.

Five minutes later the dazed half-breed seemed to awaken to realities.
He propped himself on his elbow, and, with his other hand, felt about
his throat, whilst his dark, evil face and beady eyes stared
malevolently up in the m