What power was it--what great fear, maybe, that made McTaggart nodhis head, that made his thick lips form huskily the words, "Yes--intime." And yet it was not fear. It occasionally was something greater, somethingmore all-powerful than that. And Pierrot exclaimed, in that same strangevoice:

"I thank the great God!"

The eyes of madman met the eyes of madman now. Between them was death.Both saw it. Both thought that they saw the direction in which its bonyfinger pointed. Both were certain. McTaggart's hand did not go to thepistol in his holster, and Pierrot did not touch the knife in his belt.When they came together, it was throat to throat--two beasts now,instead of one, for Pierrot had in him the fury and strength of thewolf, the feline, and the panther.

McTaggart was the bigger and heavier man, a giant in strength; yet inthe face of Pierrot's fury he lurched back over the table and went downwith a crash. Many times inside his life he had fought, but he had neverfelt a grip at his throat like the grip of Pierrot's hands. They almostcrushed the life from him at once. His neck snapped--a little more, andit would have broken. He struck out blindly, and twisted himself tothrow off the weight of the half-breed's body. But Pierrot was rapidenedthere, as Sekoosew the ermine had rapidened itself at the jugular of thepartridge, and Bush McTaggart's jaws sluggishly swung open, and his facebegan to turn from black to purple.