blooded, hisself to make a woman
sort of fan up to him. But there's other guys in this country, Ruth,
an'--"

She had seized the first thing that came to her hands, a glass jar that
had set on the window sill behind her, and she hurled it furiously and
accurately. It struck him fairly on the forehead and broke into many
pieces, which clattered and rang on the bare board floor. The sound they
made, the smashing, dull impact as the jar had struck Chavis, caused her
heart to leap in wild applause--twanging a cord of latent savagery in her
that set her nerves singing to its music. It was the first belligerent
act of her life. It awakened in her the knowledge that she could defend
herself, that the courage for which she had prayed that night when on the
rock where Randerson had found her, was lurking deep, ready to answer her
summons. She laughed at Chavis, and when she saw him wipe the blood from
his face and look at her in bewilderment, she challenged him
peremptorily:

"Go--now, you beast!"

His answer was a leering grin that made his face hideous. He looked like
a wounded animal, with nothing but concentrated passion in his eyes. Her
act had maddened him.

"I'll fix you, you hussy!" he sneered cursing.

She saw now that he was aroused past all restraint, and when he came
toward her, crouching, she knew that other missiles would not suffice,
that to be absolutely safe she must get possession of the big pistol that
reposed on the shelf near the door. So when he came toward her she
slipped behind the table. He grasped it by its edge and tried to swing it
out of the way, and when she held it he suddenly swooped down, seizing it
by the legs and overturning it. As it fell he made a lunge at her, but
she eluded him and bounded to the door. The box holding the miscellaneous
articles she knocked out of its place, so that it fell with a tinkling
crash, throwing its contents in all directions. Her fingers closed on the
stock of the pistol, and she faced Chavis, who was a few feet away,
leveling the big weapon at him. Her voice came firmly; she was surprised
at her own calmness:

"Don't move, Chavis, don't dare to take a step, or I'll kill you!"

Chavis halted, his face a dirty, chalkish white. Twice his lips opened,
in astonishment or fear, she could not tell which, but no sound came from
them. He stood silent, watching her, furtive-eyed, crouching.

In this interval her thoughts rioted in chaos, like dust before a
hurric