“An’ if I’m crazy, thet girl made me. . . .  You know what I’m a-goin’ to do? . . .  I’ll strip her naked—­an’ I’ll—­”

Lucy saw old Creech lunge and strike.  She heard the sodden blow.  Joel went down.  But he scrambled up with his eyes and mouth resembling those of a mad hound Lucy once had seen.  The fact that he reached twice for his gun and could not find it proved the breaking connection of nerve and sense.  Creech jumped and grappled with Joel.  There was a wrestling, strained struggle.  Creech’s hair stood up and his face had a kind of sick fury, and he continued to curse and command.  They fought for the possession of the gun.  But Joel seemed to have superhuman strength.  His hold on the gun could not be broken.  Moreover, he kept straining to point the gun at his father.  Lucy screamed.  Creech yelled hoarsely.  But the boy was beyond reason or help, and he was beyond over powering!  Lucy saw him bend his arm in spite of the desperate hold upon it and fire the gun.  Creech’s hoarse entreaties ceased as his hold on Joel broke.  He staggered.  His arms went up with a tragic, terrible gesture.  He fell.  Joel stood over him, shaking and livid, but he showed only the vaguest realization of the deed.  His actions were instinctive.  He was the animal that had clawed himself free.  Further proof of his aberration stood out in the action of sheathing his gun; he made the motion to do so, but he only dropped it in the grass.

Sight of that dropped gun broke Lucy’s spell of horror, which had kept her silent but for one scream.  Suddenly her blood leaped like fire in her veins.  She measured the distance to Sage King.  Joel was turning.  Then Lucy darted at the King, reached him, and, leaping, was half up on him when he snorted and jumped, not breaking her hold, but keeping her from getting up.  Then iron hands clutched her and threw her, like an empty sack, to the grass.

Joel Creech did not say a word.  His distorted face had the deriding scorn of a superior being.  Lucy lay flat on her back, watching him.  Her mind worked swiftly.  She would have to fight for her body and her life.  Her terror had fled with her horror.  She was not now afraid of this demented boy.  She meant to fight, calculating like a cunning Indian, wild as a trapped wildcat.

Lucy lay perfectly still, for she knew she had been thrown near the spot where the gun lay.  If she got her hands on that gun she would kill Joel.  It would be the action of an instant.  She watched Joel while he watched her.  And she saw that he had his foot on the rope round Sage King’s neck.  The King never liked a rope.  He was nervous.  He tossed his head to get rid of it.  Creech, watching Lucy all the while, reached for the rope, pulled the King closer and closer, and untied the knot.  The King stood then, bridle down and quiet.  Instead of a saddle he wore a blanket strapped round him.