Mrs. Nitschkan was on her feet in a minute. The board and the cards fell
unheeded to the ground. Her small, quick eyes began to roll ominously
and show red, and her relaxed figure became immediately tense and alert
as that of a panther on guard.

"Trouble's just beginnin' for you," her voice was a mere guttural growl.
"A little more sass from you, you double-j'inted jumpin'-jack dancer,
and I'll jerk you to the edge of that cliff yonder and throw you down.
I'm feelin' particularly good right now," rolling up her sleeves and
showing the great knots of swelling muscles on her arms. "Get out of my
way."

With one big sweep of her arm she brushed her companion aside as if she
had been a fly; but with incredible rapidity Pearl recovered herself and
sprang directly before her.

"Then get me out," she taunted, "try it, try it. I'd slip through your
fingers like oil. It's no good to flash your over-sized man-muscles on
me; I'm made of whip-cord and whalebone. Do you get that?"

Mrs. Nitschkan's courage sprang from a sense of trained and responsive
muscles and of tremendous physical strength, but at the sound of that
cool voice, those mocking, unwavering eyes, there swept over her an awe
of the slighter woman's far higher courage. It was an almost
superstitious fear and respect which chilled the hot blood of her
passion, the instinctive obedience of the flesh to the indomitable
spirit. Reluctantly, against her will and in spite of her anger, the
fighting gipsy paid deference to the steel-like, unflinching quality of
the Pearl, when, rising above her slender physique, she faced unafraid
the brute strength which threatened her, and dominated the situation by