The contemptuous, utterly indifferent manner in which he voiced his villainous purpose, would have crazed any man.  Perhaps he intended that it should, although it was my belief that he merely expressed himself naturally, and with no thought of consequences.  The man was so steeped in crime as to be ignorant of all sense of honor, all conception of true manhood.  But to me this utterance was the last straw, breaking down every restraint, and leaving me hot, and furious with anger.  I forgot the muzzle of the pistol pressed against my side, and the menacing threat in Kirby’s low voice.  The face of the man was indistinct, a mere outline, but the swift impulse to strike at it was irresistible, and I let him have the blow—­a straight-arm jab to the jaw.  My clinched knuckles crunched against the flesh, and he reeled back, kept from falling only by the support of the deckhouse.  There was no report of a weapon, no outcry, yet, before I could strike again, I was suddenly gripped from behind by a pair of arms, which closed about my throat like a vise, throttling me instantly into silent helplessness.  I struggled madly to break free, straining with all the art of a wrestler, exerting every ounce of strength, but the grasp which held me was unyielding, robbing me of breath, and defeating every effort to call for help; Kirby, dazed yet by my sudden blow, and eager to take a hand in the affray, struck me a cowardly blow in the face, and swung his undischarged pistol to a level with my eyes.

“Damn you!” he ejaculated, and for the first time his voice really exhibited temper.  “I’d kill you with this, but for the noise.  No, by God! there is a safer way than that to settle with you.  Have you got the skunk, Carver?”

“You can bet I have, Joe.  I kin choke the life out o’ him—­shall I?”

“No; let up a bit—­just enough so he can answer me first, I want to find out what all this means.  Now look here, Knox, you’re an army officer, are you?”

“Yes,” I managed to gasp, sobbing in an effort to catch breath, as the iron fingers at my throat relaxed slightly.

“Well then, what is all this to you?  Why are you butting in on my game?  Was Beaucaire a friend of yours?”

“I can hardly claim that,” I admitted.  “We never met until I came aboard this steamer.  All I am interested in is justice to others.”

“To others?  Oh, I suppose you mean those girls—­you know them then?”

“I have never even seen them,” I said, now speaking more easily.  “Thockmorton chanced to tell me about them yesterday, and their condition appealed to me, just as it naturally would to any true man.  I thought probably you did not understand the situation, and hoped that if I told you the truth you might respond.”

“Oh, you did, did you?  You must have figured me as being pretty soft.  Well, what do you think now?”

His tone so completely ended my hope of compromise that I replied hotly, “That you are a dirty, piratical cur.  I may have doubted your purpose at first, for I am not used to your kind, but this is so no longer.  You deliberately ruined and robbed Beaucaire, in order to gain possession of these two girls.  You have admitted as much.”