"Stop that yellin', you fool!" hissed the tramp. He drew her to him and
bent to press his bearded lips to her cheek.

On the instant another person appeared upon the scene.

A bunch of bones collided with the bull neck of the tramp, sending him
reeling across the floor.

Victoria darted to the arms of the new-comer, a young man, tall, slender
and of prepossessing appearance, clad in hunter's costume.

"Oh, August, save me!" screamed the girl.

"Scoundrel!" cried the young hunter, presenting a rifle at the breast of
the tramp. "What do you mean by this assault on a lady?"

There was a horrible expression in the eyes of the tramp, and on the
instant he slipped from concealment a large knife to his hand.

"Stand aside, Miss Vane," the hunter said to the girl. "I will learn this
scoundrel a lesson."

Victoria obeyed, standing back against the wall, pale and frightened,
while the last comer confronted the burly tramp with his rifle cocked for
instant use.

"Let me go out, August Bordine."

So the tramp seemed to recognize the youthful hunter.