“Howl me,” he shouted, “or I’ll sthrike, an’ we’ll have a death in the house.”

She raised one hand and waved it behind her, as an intimation that they should not interfere.

The laughter of the brothers now passed all bounds.  “No, Kate, go on—­we won’t interfere.  You had better seize him.”

“No,” she replied, “let him begin first, if he dar.”

“Howl me,” shouted Philip, “she’ll only be killed.”

Another peal of laughter was the sole reply given to this by the brothers.  “He’s goin’,” they exclaimed, “he’s gone—­the white fedher’s in him—­it’s all over wid him—­he’s afeerd of her, an’ not for nothing either—­ha! ha! ha! more power, Kate!”

Stung by the contemptuous derision contained in this language, Philip was stepping back in order to give himself proper room for a blow, when, on the very instant that he moved, Kate, uttering something between a howl and a yell, dashed her huge hands into his throat—­which was, as is usual with tinkers, without a cravat—­and in a moment a desperate and awful struggle took place between them.  Strong as Philip was, he found himself placed perfectly on the defensive by the terrific grip which this furious opponent held of his throat.  So powerful was it, indeed, that not a single instant was allowed him for the exercise of any aggressive violence against her by a blow, all his strength being directed to unclasp her hands from his throat that he might be permitted to breathe.  As they pulled and tugged, however, it was evident that the struggle was going against him—­a hoarse, alarming howl once or twice broke from him, that intimated terror and distress on his part.

“That’s right, Kate,” they shouted, “you have him—­press tight—­the windpipe’s goin’—­bravo! he’ll soon stagger an’ come down, an’ then you may do as you like.”

They tugged on, and dragged, and panted, with the furious vehemence of the exertion; when at length Philip shouted, in a voice half-stifled by strangulation, “Let g—­o—­o—­o, I—­I sa—­y—­y; ah! ah! ah!”

Bat now ran over in a spirit of glee and triumph that cannot well be described, and clapping his wife on the back, shouted—­“Well done, Kate; stick to him for half a minute and he’s yours.  Bravo! you clip o’ perdition, bravo!”

He had scarcely uttered the words when the giant carcass of Philip tottered and fell, dragging Kate along with it, who never for a moment lost or loosened her hold.  Her opponent now began to sprawl and kick out his feet from a sense of suffocation, and in attempting to call for assistance, nothing but low, deep gurgling noises could issue from his lips, now livid with the pressure on his throat and covered with foam.  His face, too, at all times dark and savage, became literally black, and he uttered such sternutations as, on seeing that they were accompanied by the diminished struggles which betoken exhaustion, induced Teddy to rush over for the purpose of rescuing him from her clutches.