and struck twanging in the wall behind her. The man sprang forward,
and the next instant the room was chaos, for Dawson, tingling to his
extremities, stepped in and spread him out with a crashing blow on
the head. The "idol" was his weapon.

The stout German thundered an oath and heaved to his feet, fumbling
at his hip and babbling broken profanity.

Dawson swung the image and stepped towards him.

"Keep still," he cried, "or I'll brain you!"

"Der hell!" vociferated the German, and fired swiftly at him. The
room filled with smoke, and Dawson, staggering unhurt, but with his
face stung with powder, did not see the man fall. As the German drew
the revolver clear, the woman knifed him in the neck, and he
collapsed on his face, belching blood upon the boards of the floor.
The woman stood over him, the knife still in her hand, looking at
Dawson with a smile.

"My God!" he said as he glanced about him. The tall man was lying at
his feet, huddled hideously on the floor. The room stank of violence
and passion. "My God!" and he stooped to the body.

The woman touched him on the shoulder. "Gome," she said. "It's no
good. It was a grand blow, a king's blow. 'You cannot help him."

"But--but----" he flustered as he rose. The emergency was beyond him.
He had only half a strong man's equipment--the mere brawn. "Two men
killed. I must get back to the ship."