shake off his foe. At the yell that went up from Murphy's
men, the big Highlander's face lost its smile and became keen and cruel,
his eyes glittered with the flash of steel and he came forward once more
with a quick, light tread. His great body seemed to lose both size and
weight, so lightly did he step on tiptoe. There was no more pause, but
lightly, swiftly, and eagerly he glided upon LeNoir. There was something
terrifying in that swift, cat-like movement. In vain the Frenchman
backed and dodged and tried to guard. Once, twice, Macdonald's fists
fell. LeNoir's right arm hung limp by his side and he staggered back to
the wall helpless. Without an instant's delay, Macdonald had him by the
throat, and gripping him fiercely, began to slowly bend him backward
over his knee. Then for the first time Macdonald spoke:

"LeNoir," he said, solemnly, "the days of your boasting are over. You
will no longer glory in your strength, for now I will break your back to
you."

LeNoir tried to speak, but his voice came in horrible gurgles. His face
was a ghastly greenish hue, lined with purple and swollen veins, his
eyes were standing out of his head, and his breath sobbing in raucous
gasps. Slowly the head went back. The crowd stood in horror-stricken
silence waiting for the sickening snap. Yankee, unable to stand it any
longer, stepped up to his chief, and in a most matter of fact voice
drawled out, "About an inch more that way I guess 'll do the trick, if
he ain't double-jointed."

"Aye," said Macdonald, holding grimly on.

"Tonald,"--Black Hugh's voice sounded faint but clear in the awful
silence--"Tonald--you will not--be killing--him. Remember that now. I
will--never--forgive you--if you will--take that--from my hands."

The cry for vengeance smote Macdonald to the heart, and recalled him to
himself. He paused, threw back his locks from his eyes, then relaxing
his grip, stood up.

"God preserve me!" he groaned, "what am I about?"

For some time he remained standing silent, with head down as if not
quite sure of himself. He was recalled by a grip of his arm. He turned
and saw his nephew, Ranald, at his side. The boy's dark face was pale
with passion.

"And is that all you are going to do to him?" he demanded. Macdonald
gazed at him.

"Do you not see what he has done?" he continued, pointing to his father,
who was still lying propped up on some coats. "Why did you not break his
back? You said you would! The brute, beast!"