them. And she kept her hand on Joe Embry's arm.
"By God!" shouted Steele, taking a sudden step toward them and fairly glaring at her so that she must fight with herself not to shrink back, so that almost must she fear his clenched fist was meant for her. "I won't have you giving yourself to that man that way! I won't have you touch him!"
Embry's lips were twitching, his close-lidded eyes were watchful. Steele suddenly threw out his hand, thrusting Embry backward so that he was hurled away from Beatrice's side, so that his shoulders struck against the wall of Hurley's shack. Even Embry, anxious to do his dear lady's bidding, was not the man to suffer that without retaliation. He struck back and though the blow landed square in Steele's chest, Steele scarcely felt it. For his blood was no longer the peaceful blood of the man who made merry war but of the man who hates, hates doubly because he loves elsewhere. The great blow he struck in answer made even Ed Hurley cry out in wonderment. … Embry's arms flew out, Embry went down. …
"You have killed him!" cried Beatrice.
But Embry's hand, though he had not risen, went the short way it knew to Embry's hip. There was the flash of the sun on a glinting gun barrel and he fired. But Steele had not waited and Embry had not taken that one other half second which, had he been cool minded, he would have reserved. And before he could fire twice Steele's big boot had smashed into his hand and the gun fell ten feet away into the grass. Steele went to it, took it up, hurled it far out into the brush.
