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Wrenching his other hand from under the rope, he fought them back

as a hurt grizzly does the wolf pack gathered for the kill. None

but a very powerful man could ever have reached his feet. None

less agile and sinewy than a panther could have beaten them back

as at first he did. They fought in grim silence, yet the grove

was full of the sounds of battle. The heavy breathing, the beat

of shifting feet, the soft impact of flesh striking flesh, the

thud of falling bodies--of these the air was vocal. Yet, save for

the gasps of sudden pain, no man broke silence save once.

"The snake'll get away yet!" a hoarse voice cried, not loudly,

but with an emphasis that indicated strong conviction.