herself from his grasp. The next instant Dane was by her side, while a
blow from the clenched fist of his right hand sent the cowardly villain
reeling back among the trees. Then like a tiger Dane was upon him, his
fingers clutching his throat as he pinned him to the ground. The
fallen man fought and struggled desperately to tear away that fearful
vise-like grip, but all in vain. At length his striving ceased, and
his body relaxed. Then Dane unloosened his hold, and looked at the
girl.

"Shall I kill him?" he asked.

"No, no!" was the startled reply. "That would be terrible!"

"But he tried to harm you. If I kill him, he won't have a chance to
try again."

"Let him go," the girl pleaded. "Perhaps this will teach him a lesson."

Dane, however, hesitated. A passionate impulse urged him to make an
end of such a cowardly creature. The spirit of the wild was strong
upon him, and his nature craved complete satisfaction. How could it be
otherwise? Steeped for years in the ways of the wilderness, he had
become a part of all that he had seen and heard. He knew how the
beasts of the forest and the monarchs of the air dealt with their prey.
He had at times watched two great bull moose locked in deadly combat,
until one had gone down to defeat and death. And around campfires at
night he had listened to rough men as they related tales of terrible
fights, grewsome murders, and sudden deaths. Everywhere he turned it
was the same savage struggle, with only one outcome, the survival of
the strongest, and death to the vanquished.