and cleared his lungs. He was wildly excited.

"She did it!" he burst Out, as soon as he could speak. "She did it a
purpose! She reached out and pushed me! By God, there she is now!"

With the instinct of the hunter he had managed to cling to his rifle. He
wrenched at the magazine lever, throwing the muzzle forward for a shot,
but it had been jammed, and he was unable to move it. "She reached out
and pushed me! I felt her do it!" he cried. He attempted to rise, but
fell back, groaning with a pain that kept him quiet for several moments.

"Sam!" he muttered, "she's there yet. Kill her. Damn it, didn't you see!
I had my balance again, and she pushed me! She had it in for me!" His
face whitened for an instant as he moved, then flooded with a red anger.
"My God!" he cried, in the anguish of a strong man laid low, "she's
busted me all over!" He wrenched loose his shoulders from Sam's support,
struggled to his knees, and fell back, a groan of pain seeming fairly to
burst from his heart. His head hit sharply against a stone. He lay
still.

"May-may-gwán!" called Sam Bolton, sharply.

She came at once, running eagerly, the paralysis of her distress broken
by his voice. Sam directed her by nods of the head. With some difficulty
they carried the unconscious man to the flat and laid him down, his head
on Sam's rolled coat. Then, while May-may-gwán, under his curtly
delivered directions, built a fire, heated water, carried down the two
remaining packs and opened them, Sam tenderly removed Dick's clothes,
and examined him from head to foot. The cuts on the head were nothing to
a strong man; the bruises less. Manipulation discovered nothing wrong