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 back. Brent did not strike but groped toward him, trying to regain his hold, and they rolled together in another lock.

Brent used his head and butted Moran in the face. It was a fast pace and was telling upon both men; the strain of heaving muscles knotted the cords of neck and face. Their breath sounded in spasmodic gasps.

Fear began to assault Brent from within.

The regular, deady slam of the chain was beginning to shake his nerve. If the wolf would only make a sound! Only growl or rage aloud—anything but this silent, murderous concentration upon one point—to break that chain.

Moran found his chance to writhe on top and force Brent down on his face, stretching him full length, toe locking toe, and hands pinioned to his sides, with his forehead pressed down upon Brent’s head, jamming his face in the ground.

Both men heard a screech, such as a rusty nail makes when drawn from a board, and a shape hurtled above them, propelled by the driving force behind its own release. The staple had given away from the wall.

A dog, in trying to punish Brent, would have fallen in a fighting frenzy upon both men, but