as he quicker than Trevors,
and he knew it. Now, as he read the sinister purpose in Trevors's
glaring eyes, as he glimpsed the raised boot as it left the floor, he
lowered his own head, averted it ever so little, stooped--and his hand
closed like locked iron about the calf of Trevors's leg. A stifled cry
from the bulkier man, a little grunt of effort from Lee, Lee straining,
heaving mightily, and Trevors went back, toppled, fought for his
slipping balance, and fell. As he went down Lee was upon him, Lee's
arm about his neck, Lee's weight flung upon him, Lee holding his body
between a powerful pair of knees which rode him as they rode daily some
struggling Blue Lake colt.

Now Bud's left arm, defying the agony of a broken hand, was around him,
Lee's legs were about the frantically fighting body, and at last Lee's
right hand went its sure way to the thick, bared, pulsing throat.
Trevors's right arm was caught at his side, held there by the body upon
his. His left hand beat at Lee's face, struck and battered again only
to come back like a steam-driven piston to hammer again. But Bud Lee's
pain-racked body clung on, his thumb and fingers sank and sank deeper
into the corded muscles of the heaving throat, crooked like talons,
white and hard and relentless.

Trevors's eyes were terrible, filled with hatred, red-flecked with
rage. He sought, with a great sudden heave, to roll over. But he
could not shake off the legs which were like stubborn tentacles about
him, could not free his throat of the tensing clutch. He tore at the
wrist, smote again at Lee's head, set his own hand to Lee's throat. In
an instant his hand was back at the hand worrying him, but he was
unable to drag it away.

His face went white, flamed red, grew purplish. His eyes bulged up at
Lee's, his deep chest contracted spasmodically. Lee, summoning the
force within him, drove thumb and fingers deeper.

"Got enough?" he panted.

For the last time Trevors strained with him and they rolled like
death-locked mountain-lions. But still Lee's left arm was about
Trevors's neck, his legs about the tossing body, his hand at Trevors's
throat. Trevors's breath caught, failed him. . . .

Then and then only did a new look come into the bulging eyes. A look
of more than fear, of utter, desperate terror. Trevors threw up his
hand weakly, then let it fall so that it struck the floor heavily, a
dead weight.

Lee's grip at the strangling throat relaxed. B