McTaggart was the bigger and heavier man, a giant in strength; yet in the face of Pierrot’s fury he lurched back over the table and went down with a crash.  Many times in his life he had fought, but he had never felt a grip at his throat like the grip of Pierrot’s hands.  They almost crushed the life from him at once.  His neck snapped—­a little more, and it would have broken.  He struck out blindly, and twisted himself to throw off the weight of the half-breed’s body.  But Pierrot was fastened there, as Sekoosew the ermine had fastened itself at the jugular of the partridge, and Bush McTaggart’s jaws slowly swung open, and his face began to turn from red to purple.

Cold air rushing through the door, Pierrot’s voice and the sound of battle roused Nepeese quickly to consciousness and the power to raise herself from the floor.  She had fallen near Baree, and as she lifted her head, her eyes rested for a moment on the dog before they went to the fighting men.  Baree was alive!  His body was twitching; his eyes were open.  He made an effort to raise his head as she was looking at him.

Then she dragged herself to her knees and turned to the men, and Pierrot, even in the blood-red fury of his desire to kill, must have heard the sharp cry of joy that came from her when she saw that it was the factor from Lac Bain who was underneath.  With a tremendous effort she staggered to her feet, and for a few moments she stood swaying unsteadily as her brain and her body readjusted themselves.  Even as she looked down upon the blackening face from which Pierrot’s fingers were choking the life, Bush McTaggart’s hand was groping blindly for his pistol.  He found it.  Unseen by Pierrot, he dragged it from its holster.  It was one of the black devils of chance that favored him again, for in his excitement he had not snapped the safety shut after shooting Baree.  Now he had only strength left to pull the trigger.  Twice his forefinger closed.  Twice there came deadened explosion close to Pierrot’s body.

In Pierrot’s face Nepeese saw what had happened.  Her heart died in her breast as she looked upon the swift and terrible change wrought by sudden death.  Slowly Pierrot straightened.  His eyes were wide for a moment—­wide and staring.  He made no sound.  She could not see his lips move.  And then he fell toward her, so that McTaggart’s body was free.  Blindly and with an agony that gave no evidence in cry or word she flung herself down beside her father.  He was dead.

How long Nepeese lay there, how long she waited for Pierrot to move, to open his eyes, to breathe, she would never know.  In that time McTaggart rose to his feet and stood leaning against the wall, the pistol in his hand, his brain clearing itself as he saw his final triumph.  His work did not frighten him.  Even in that tragic moment as he stood against the wall, his defense—­if it ever came to a defense—­framed itself in his mind.  Pierrot had murderously assaulted him—­without