TO SAVE A "NIGGER" It proved to be a short, sharp struggle, from the first the advantage altogether with me.

Kirby, jerked from off his feet from behind, his head forced down against the wooden sill, with throat gripped remorselessly in my clutch, could give utterance to no outcry, nor effectively exert his strength to break free.

I throttled the very breath out of him, knowing that I must conquer then and there, silently, and with no thought of mercy.

I was battling for her life, and my own.

This was no time for compassion, nor had I the slightest wish to spare the man.