How Mamie escaped that savage onrush, she never knew. Jack had a confused recollection of seeing her spring aside to escape the madman’s swinging arms, and in the next instant he found himself grappling with him, hurled backward off his feet, with great, hairy hands tearing at his throat. He felt himself helpless as a child in this powerful and cruel grasp, and his heart turned faint within him as he stared upward into the convulsed and hideous face glaring down at him. He dashed his fists against it, with almost as little effect as though he had dashed them against a rock, and ever those hands at his throat tightened and tightened. The world danced red before him—it was no use—no use— Then, suddenly, a thought flashed lightning-like into his brain—if he failed her now, Mamie would be left alone with this monster—at his mercy— Mad with rage, fairly foaming at the mouth, fired with a strength almost superhuman, Jack twisted his assailant to one side and tore his hands from his throat. One full breath of the cold air—it was all he had time for, before those hands closed upon him again. This was no human being, he told himself despairingly; it was a monster against which he could not hope to prevail; it wasn’t fair to put a man up against a thing like this; nobody could blame him if he failed—but Mamie—there was Mamie— His hand, flung out convulsively, touched something hard and round; mechanically he grasped it—mechanically he struck with it at the face above him—once—twice—thrice. And he felt the hands at his throat relax, saw dimly the savage countenance running red with blood, felt the great body lurch heavily forward across him—and lay gasping for breath, too weak, for the moment, to throw it off. But only for a moment; then, twisting the body to one side, he staggered to his feet and stared first at it and then at the boulder he still grasped in his hand; and not till then did he understand what had happened—by what a slender chance he had been saved—and not he alone, but Mamie— Mamie! He turned to look for her. She was nowhere in sight, and forgetting all else, he staggered forward toward the burning house. He tried the front door and found it fastened, shook at it savagely without effect, and then hastened around the house to the rear. The back door was open, a flood of smoke pouring from it. And as he stared stupidly at it, he saw a nebulous figure struggling through it. The sight brought his senses back, brought his strength back. He sprang forward, and in another moment, he and Mamie, between them, had dragged Allan West out into the open air, bleeding, bound, unconscious. “What they been doin’ to the boy?” cried Jack, a white-hot rage almost choking him. “Have they kilt him—have the cowards kilt him?” “Oh, no; oh, no!” sobbed Mamie, dropping on her knees beside him. “Oh, look, dad, they’ve tied his hands and feet.”