Barbara Harding ran forward to assist her champion but as the men rolled and tumbled over the ground she could find no opening for a blow that might not endanger Billy Byrne quite as much as it endangered his antagonist; but presently she discovered that the American required no assistance.  She saw the Indian’s head bending slowly forward beneath the resistless force of the other’s huge muscles, she heard the crack that announced the parting of the vertebrae and saw the limp thing which had but a moment before been a man, pulsing with life and vigor, roll helplessly aside—­a harmless and inanimate lump of clay.

Billy Byrne leaped to his feet, shaking himself as a great mastiff might whose coat had been ruffled in a fight.

“Come!” he whispered.  “We gotta beat it now for sure.  That guy’s shot’ll lead ’em right down to us,” and once more they took up their flight down toward the valley, along an unknown trail through the darkness of the night.

For the most part they moved in silence, Billy holding the girl’s arm or hand to steady her over the rough and dangerous portions of the path.  And as they went there grew in Billy’s breast a love so deep and so resistless that he found himself wondering that he had ever imagined that his former passion for this girl was love.

This new thing surged through him and over him with all the blind, brutal, compelling force of a mighty tidal wave.  It battered down and swept away the frail barriers of his new-found gentleness.  Again he was the Mucker—­hating the artificial wall of social caste which separated him from this girl; but now he was ready to climb the wall, or, better still, to batter it down with his huge fists.  But the time was not yet—­ first he must get Barbara to a place of safety.

On and on they went.  The night grew cold.  Far ahead there sounded the occasional pop of a rifle.  Billy wondered what it could mean and as they approached the ranch and he discovered that it came from that direction he hastened their steps to even greater speed than before.

“Somebody’s shootin’ up the ranch,” he volunteered.  “Wonder who it could be.”

“Suppose it is your friend and general?” asked the girl.

Billy made no reply.  They reached the river and as Billy knew not where the fords lay he plunged in at the point at which the water first barred their progress and dragging the girl after him, plowed bull-like for the opposite shore.  Where the water was above his depth he swam while Barbara clung to his shoulders.  Thus they made the passage quickly and safely.

Billy stopped long enough to shake the water out of his carbine, which the girl had carried across, and then forged ahead toward the ranchhouse from which the sounds of battle came now in increased volume.

And at the ranchhouse “hell was popping.”  The moment Bridge realized that some of the attackers had reached the veranda he called the surviving Mexican and the Chinaman to follow him to the lower floor where they might stand a better chance to repel this new attack.  Mr. Harding he persuaded to remain upstairs.