de as he went down with a shrill screech, dragging
Deering with him. Instantly began a terrific, whirling, wrestling
struggle.

A few feet farther down the cliff another yellow body came crashing
down to alight with a thud, to bound erect, to rush forward swift as
a leaping deer. The two remaining Indians had only time to draw
their weapons before this lithe, threatening form whirled upon them.
Shrill cries, hoarse yells, the clash of steel and dull blows
mingled together. One savage went down, twisted over, writhed and
lay still. The other staggered, warded off lightninglike blows until
one passed under his guard, and crashed dully on his head. Then he
reeled, rose again, but only to have his skull cloven by a bloody
tomahawk.

The victor darted toward the whirling mass.

"Lew, shake him loose! Let him go!" yelled Jonathan Zane, swinging
his bloody weapon.

High above Zane's cry, Deering's shouts and curses, Girty's shrieks
of fear and fury, above the noise of wrestling bodies and dull
blows, rose a deep booming roar.

It was Wetzel's awful cry of vengeance.

"Shake him loose," yelled Jonathan.

Baffled, he ran wildly around the wrestlers. Time and time again his
gory tomahawk was raised only to be lowered. He found no opportunity
to strike. Girty's ghastly countenance gleamed at him from the whirl
of legs, and arms and bodies. Then Wetzel's dark face, lighted by
merciless eyes, took its place, and that gave way to Deering's broad
features. The men being clad alike in buckskin, and their motions so
rapid, prevented Zane from lending a helping hand.

Suddenly Deering was propelled from the mass as if by a catapult.
His body straightened as it came down with a heavy thud. Zane
pounced upon it with catlike quickness. Once more he swung aloft the
bloody hatchet; then once more he lowered it, for there was no need
to strike. The renegade's side was torn open from shoulder to hip. A
deluge of blood poured out upon the moss. Deering choked, a bloody
froth formed on his lips. His fingers clutched at nothing. His eyes
rolled violently and then were fixed in an awful stare.

The girl lying so quiet in the woods near the old hut was avenged!

Jonathan turned again to Wetzel and Girty, not with any intention to
aid the hunter, but simply to witness the end of the struggle.

Without the help of the powerful Deering, how pitifully weak was the
Deathshead of the frontier in the hands of the Avenger!

Jim Girty's tomah