Close behind Hauck there gathered quickly his
white-faced whisky-mongers like a pack of wolves waiting for a lead-cry.
David expected that cry to come from Brokaw. The Girl expected it, and
she clung to David's shoulders, her bloodless face turned to the danger.
It was Brokaw who gave the signal to the men.
"Clear out the cage!" he bellowed. "This damned spy has killed my bear
and he's got to fight me! Do you understand? Clear out the cage!"
He thrust his head and bull shoulders forward until his foul, hot breath
touched their faces, and his red neck was swollen like the neck of a
cobra with the passion of his jealousy and hatred.
"And in that fight--I'm going to kill you!" he hissed.
It was Hauck who put his hands on the Girl.
"Go with him," whispered David, as her arms tightened about his
shoulders. "You must go with him, Marge--if I am to have a chance!"
Her face was against him. She was talking, low, swiftly, for his ears
alone--with Hauck already beginning to pull her away.
"I will go to the house. When you see me at that window, fall on your
face. I have a rifle--I will shoot him dead--from the window...."
Perhaps Hauck heard. David wondered as he caught the glitter in his eyes
when he drew the Girl away.
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