“Yet you dare not. I tell you that the fate of your lover hangs upon my life. I am not likely to give you up readily. I repeat that I love you. A Frenchman loves in a moment, and forever. Beware what you do, and above all, keep silent.” She knew that she was in his power. He laughed lightly, and laid his hand upon her shoulder. All the passion in her nature was aroused, and she struck him in the face with the flat of her hand. He stepped back a pace and put his hand to a knife instinctively. A flush of blood rushed into his face. Jan, from where he was sitting, saw the action, and rushing forward, thrust his heavy body between them to shake his ponderous fist under the nose of Jules, who recoiled at the sight. “She struck me,” he cried, angrily. “I will make you repent that blow so bitterly that you will wish you had never been born, rather than have raised your hand against me.” “You drove me to do it,” she answered. “Vat you say mit her, Shules Tamant?” demanded Jan, his fist vibrating to and fro in front of the Roman nose of Damand. “Yoost you shpeaks now, vile I dalks mit you. I vants to know yoost all apout it. Off you say a vord mit her vat ish not goot, I vill preak you in so many ash vorty t’ousand bieces.” “I will make daylight shine through your body in a moment if you do not take care,” said Damand. “Get out of my way.” “I von’t! I shtays here yoost so long ash I haf a mind to. Now yoost you look here. You’s a vool, you is. I nefer sees such a vool in all mine life. Auver a man knows any t’ing he know petter ash to talk mit a vooman, unt put a hant to a knife.” “Stand aside,” roared Jules, whipping out his knife. “It will be better for you.” Jan instantly knocked him down in spite of his knife, and tied his hands and feet. When he recovered from the blow Jan had conveyed him into the cabin and shut the door. He writhed about in his bonds. “Jan!” he bawled. No answer. “Jan Schneider!” A silence like the grave. After he had roared himself hoarse Jan thrust his head in at the door and said quietly: “Vas you callin’ _me_?” “Of course I was.” “Berhaps you ton’t know I’ve got a hantle to mine name, Mister Shules Tamant? Beeples call me _Mynheer_ Jan Schneider.” “Come here. I want you to untie these straps.” “Hein?” cried Jan, in astonishment. “I want you to let me go.” “Geh zum tuyfel! Ven I lets you co, I vas a very pig vool. Yon t’ink you coom rount here unt haf eferyt’ing your own vay? I dells you goot ash you can nix do nottings like dat. Ven Penn coomes pack, mebbe ve t’row you in der vasser.” “Oh, but this is more than a joke, Jan. Untie me. This has gone far enough. I did not intend to use the knife.” “No more den I intent to use mine vist. Unt I did intent to use him _goot_. How your ear veel pout dis dime of ter day, Shule?” “Will you, or will you not, release me from these bonds?” “I vill not, unless you bromise to peg der bardon auver der young lady.” “I’ll never do that.”