And Bram continued to laugh--and as he
laughed, his eyes blazing a greenish fire, he turned to the stove
and began putting fuel into the fire. It was horrible. Bram's
laugh--the girl's dead white face, AND HER SMILE! He no longer
asked himself who she was, and why she was there. He was
overwhelmed by the one appalling fact that she WAS here, and that
the stricken soul crying out to him from the depths of those eyes
that were like wonderful blue amethysts told him that Bram had
made her pay the price. His muscles hardened as he looked at the
huge form bending over the stove. It was a splendid opportunity. A
single leap and he would be at the outlaw's throat. With that
advantage, in open combat, the struggle would at least be equal.
The girl must have guessed what was in his mind, for suddenly her
fingers were clutching at his arm and she was pulling him away
from the wolf-man, speaking to him in the language which he could
not understand. And then Bram turned from the stove, picked up a
pail, and without looking at them left the cabin.
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