caught her and dragged her roughly back, so that the two disappeared
from Brian's sight. Brian was halfway up the bluff when he heard the
girl's shrill scream.

There was no sign of weakness, now, in the man that Judy had dragged
from the river. He covered the remaining distance to the top in a
breath. From among the bushes, a little way down the mountainside, came
the sound of an angry voice mingled with Judy's pleading cries.

An instant more, and Brian reached the spot where poor Judy was
crouching on the ground, begging the brute, who stood over her with
menacing fists, not to hit her again.

The man was a vicious-looking creature, dressed in the rough garb of
the mountaineer; dirty and unkempt, with evil, close-set eyes, and a
scraggly beard that could not hide the wicked, snarling mouth.

He stood for a second looking at Brian, as if too surprised by the
latter's sudden appearance to move; then he went down, felled by as
clean a knockout as was ever delivered by an Irish fist.

"Are you hurt, Judy?" demanded Brian, as he lifted the girl to her feet.
"Did he strike you?"

"He was sure a-fixin' ter lick me somethin' awful when you-all put in,"
returned the poor girl, trembling with fear. "I know, 'cause he's done
hit to me heaps er times before. He's my pap."

"Your father!" exclaimed Brian.