Dazed, Alagwa staggered back. For a moment she saw the battlefield, photographed indelibly upon the retinas of her eyes; saw the man at whom Jack had fired clutching at the air as he fell; saw the sole remaining foe, the man who had tripped at the rampart, a huge man, broad and tall, leap at Jack. Then sight and sound were blotted out together. CHAPTER XIV HOW long unconsciousness held Alagwa she never knew. It could not have been for very long, however, for when she opened her eyes she saw Jack and the man in hunter’s costume, the only foe left standing by that short, fierce fight, still facing each other. She saw them dimly, for, though the dawn was merging fast into the full day, to her eyes darkness still impended. Nor were her eyes alone affected; a pall seemed to bind both her mind and her muscles, holding her motionless. Idly she watched the two, with a curious sense of detachment; they seemed like figures in a dream whose fate to her meant less than nothing. The two men had drawn a little apart and were watching each other narrowly. Evidently they had been struggling fiercely, for both were panting; Alagwa could see the heave of their breasts as they drew breath. The advantage seemed to be with the unknown, for Jack was practically unarmed; in his hand he had only a light stick, charred at the end, evidently a survival from some ancient campfire, while the other gripped a pistol. At last Jack broke the silence. “So, Captain Telfair,” he said. “We meet again!” Slowly into Alagwa’s consciousness the meaning of Jack’s words penetrated. She did not move; she could not move; but her eyes focused on the man in hunter’s garb who leaned forward, half crouching, and glared into Jack’s face. It was Brito. He had not even disguised himself, unless it be counted a disguise to discard his conspicuous red coat in favor of a neutral-tinted shirt and deerskin trousers. Had it not been for Alagwa’s dazed condition, she would have known him instantly. As she watched, he threw back his shoulders and laughed with evil triumph. “Yes!” he jeered. “We meet once more--for the last time. Your friends hounded me out of Wapakoneta. Damme! but they timed their actions well! Who would have thought they would drive me here just in time to intercept you. The fortunes of war, my dear cousin, the fortunes of war.” Jack did not speak, and the other half raised his pistol and went on, with a sudden change of tone: “You cub,” he hissed, “you’ve got only yourself to blame. I warned you not to come between me and Estelle Telfair. You came--and now you pay for it. I’d be a fool to let you escape when fortune has delivered you into my hand.” Captain Brito’s tones were growing more and more deadly. With each word Alagwa expected to hear his pistol roar and to see Jack go crashing down. Desperately she strove to spring to the rescue. But she could not move; she could not even cry aloud. A more than night-mare helplessness held her fast.