Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1912)

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116 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE THE STRUGGLE ON THE CLIFF dian's collar-bone, giving him something to think about for a minute, else Harry must surely have been brained by him. For a moment they stood locked, each holding the wrist of the other's weapon hand, each weighing the other's strength and weaknesses, each seeing only death in the other's halfclosed eyes. Suddenly the Indian made a vicious movement with his knee, that opened Harry's wound cruelly. The poor fellow involuntarily let go his adversary's hand, which was lifted like a flash. Harry switched around, and almost threw the Indian over the embankment. This move saved his life, for the tomahawk went whirling over the edge, the Indian making a wild clutch with both hands, catching Harry's coat, and for a moment they hoth tottered on the edge. Harry made a desperate lunge with the now free knife that caught and ripped the Indian's uplifted arm. Again the savage grasped Harry's wrist and tried once more to mangle the poor fellow's wounded leg, The young man flung him off with a cry of pain. They were both bleeding freely, each confident that he would survive the longer. Harry at length became sure that "he was fated to defeat and death unless he. could win by strategy. He made a fierce effort to wrest his knife hand away from his foe. The effort cost him terrific pain and loss of blood. Then he noted with horror that his senses were becoming more and more numb by the minute. He dully wondered why his foe did not take advantage of his failing strength. At last the Indian's design dawned on him. The savage was waiting and was ever so gradually but with fatal certainty pushing him nearer the brink of the precipice. The moment was coming when a single push would plunge the weakening man over. He tried to struggle, but finding it futile and a sure indication of his defeat, he waited what seemed hours. Suddenly he was roused and thought he had been sleeping. He felt a sharp tug, then felt himself whirling thru space. He tried to scream. Darkness and oblivion mercifully came to his aid. The Indian had triumphed! How far Trixie 's intelligence had been able to fathom the nature of the contest will never be known. When the Indian at length sat up with a suppressed groan and called to her, Trixie walked meekly over to him. The Indian climbed on her back and let her take her head, opening his eyes now and then to get his bearings. A half hour later the Indian opened his eyes just in time to meet death face to face from the dozen bullets of as many returning pioneers, among whom Trixie had led him.