The words were stifled in his throat. A chair overturned with a crash; a great body struck him on the chest; a hot, pestilent breath volleyed in his face, and wolfish teeth were reaching for his throat. “Come on, Killer!” he screamed. The horror of suspense was past. It had come, and with it he was himself again. Back, back, back, along the wall he was borne. His hands entwined themselves around a hairy throat; he forced the great head with its horrid lightsome eyes from him; he braced himself for the effort, lifted the huge body at his breast, and heaved it from him. It struck the wall and fell with a soft thud. As he recoiled a hand clutched his ankle and sought to trip him. David kicked back and down with all his strength. There was one awful groan, and he staggered against the door and out. There he paused, leaning against the wall to' breathe. He struck a match and lifted his foot to see where the hand had clutched him. God! there was blood on his heel. Then a great fear laid hold on him. A cry was suffocated in his breast by the panting of his heart. He crept back to the kitchen door and listened. Not a sound. Fearfully he opened it a crack. Silence of the tomb. He banged it to. It opened behind him, and the fact lent wings to his feet. He turned and plunged out into the night, and ran through the blackness for his life. And a great owl swooped softly by and hooted mockingly: “For your life! for your life! for your life!” PART V OWD BOB O' KENMUIR Chapter XXII A MAN AND A MAID IN the village even the Black Killer and the murder on the Screes were forgotten in this new sensation. The mystery in which the affair was wrapped, and the ignorance as to all its details, served to whet the general interest. There had been a fight; M'Adam and the Terror had been mauled; and David had disappeared--those were the facts. But what was the origin of the affray no one could say. One or two of the Dalesmen had, indeed, a shrewd suspicion. Tupper looked guilty; Jem Burton muttered, “I knoo hoo 'twould be”; while as for Long Kirby, he vanished entirely, not to reappear till three months had sped. Injured as he had been, M'Adam was yet sufficiently recovered to appear in the Sylvester Arms on the Saturday following the battle. He entered the tap-room silently with never a word to a soul; one arm was in a sling and his head bandaged. He eyed every man present critically; and all, except Tammas, who was brazen, and Jim Mason, who was innocent, fidgeted beneath the stare. Maybe it was well for Long Kirby he was not there. “Onythin' the matter?” asked Jem, at length, rather lamely, in view of the plain evidences of battle.