One hand clutched his coat front in a spasmodic grasp, and with the other she covered her face.
The roar the Harvester sent up stayed the big, lifted fist, and the dog leaped for a throat hold, and compelled the man to defend himself.

The Harvester never knew how he covered the space until he stood between them, and saw the Girl draw back and snatch together the front of her dress.
"He took it from me!" she panted.

"Make him, oh make him give back my money!" Then for a few seconds things happened too rapidly to record.

Once the Harvester tossed a torn envelope exposing money to the Girl, and again a revolver, and then both men panting and dishevelled were on their feet.
"Count your money, Ruth ?" said the Harvester in a voice of deadly quiet.
"It is all here," said she.
"Her money ?" cried Henry Jameson.

"My money! She has been stealing the price of my cattle from my pockets.