For answer Blade jerked his hand backward and downward, and when it swung into sight again it held Tappan’s worn and shining rifle. Then Blade, with deliberate force, that showed the nature of the man, worked the lever and threw a shell into the magazine. All the while his eyes were fastened on Tappan. His face seemed that of another man, evil, relentless, inevitable in his spirit to preserve his own life at any cost. “I mean to kill your burro,” he said, in voice that suited his look and manner. “No!” cried Tappan, shocked into an instant of appeal. “Yes, I am, an’ I’ll bet, by God, before we get out of hyar you’ll be glad to eat some of her meat!” That roused the slow-gathering might of Tappan’s wrath. “I’d starve to death before I’d--I’d kill that burro, let alone eat her.” “Starve an’ be damned!” shouted Blade, yielding to rage. Jenet stood right behind Tappan, in her posture of contented repose, with one long ear hanging down over her gray meek face. “You’ll have to kill me first,” answered Tappan, sharply. “I’m good fer anythin’--if you push me,” returned Blade, stridently. As he stepped aside, evidently so he could have unobstructed aim at Jenet, Tappan leaped forward and knocked up the rifle as it was discharged. The bullet sped harmlessly over Jenet. Tappan heard it thud into a tree. Blade uttered a curse. And as he lowered the rifle in sudden deadly intent, Tappan grasped the barrel with his left hand. Then, clenching his right, he struck Blade a sodden blow in the face. Only Blade’s hold on the rifle prevented him from falling. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth. He bellowed in hoarse fury, “I’ll kill you--fer thet!” Tappan opened his clenched teeth: “No, Blade--you’re not man enough.” Then began a terrific struggle for possession of the rifle. Tappan beat at Blade’s face with his sledge-hammer fist. But the strength of the other made it imperative that he use both hands to keep his hold on the rifle. Wrestling and pulling and jerking, the men tore round the snowy camp, scattering the camp fire, knocking down the brush shelter. Blade had surrendered to a wild frenzy. He hissed his maledictions. His was the brute lust to kill an enemy that thwarted him. But Tappan was grim and terrible in his restraint. His battle was to save Jenet. Nevertheless, there mounted in him the hot physical sensations of the savage. The contact of flesh, the smell and sight of Blade’s blood, the violent action, the beastly mien of his foe, changed the fight to one for its own sake. To conquer this foe, to rend him and beat him down, blow on blow!