The pain from the hurt made him furious.
"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" he cursed.

And in an access of bestial rage he tore her hands from his face, crushed them to her sides, wrenching them cruelly, until she cried out in agony.
Then, his face hideous, he seized her by the shoulders and crushed her against the outside wall, so that her head struck it and she sagged forward into his arms, unconscious.
The lock on Barney Owen's rifle had jammed just as Dale entered the room, following the rush of the men to the outside door.

He had selected Dale as his target.
He tried for a fatal instant to work the lock, saw his error, and swung the weapon over his head in an attempt to brain the man nearest him.
The man dodged and the rifle slipped from Owen's hands and went clattering to the floor.

Then the man struck with the butt of one of the pistols he had picked up from the floor, and Owen went down in a heap.
When he regained consciousness the room was empty.

For a time he lay where he had fallen, too dizzy and faint to get to his feet; and then he heard Dale's voice, saying: "A bullet wouldn't go through it.