"Oh, God!" cried Beekman, stretching out his left hand, the only one he could move, to the little figure posed against the sky in all its golden brilliance as he had seen it when he had lain upon the sand, a castaway, the first morning on that island. He thought and they all thought she would go over without hesitating, but she looked back. That backward look was her salvation.
Quicker witted than any, and realizing from her own womanly intuition what was in her sister woman’s mind, Stephanie saved the day. As Truda’s head came around, Stephanie took the boldest and most astonishing action of her whole life. There, in plain view of Truda, she struck Beekman full in the face with her clenched fist, and before anyone could stop her she struck again and again. She rained blow after blow upon him. She was a vigorous young woman, and in her excitement she had no idea of the power which her frantic excitement gave to her blows. Beekman, half-dazed from the other fall, and weakened from loss of blood from the reopened wound in his arm, was too astonished for resistance. Indeed, the first blow was enough. Instinctively, as one blow succeeded another, he threw up his arm vainly and then went down fairly under a mighty thrust into which she put all the force of her body. Indeed, she almost leaped upon him as he staggered backward. She recovered her balance with difficulty as Beekman fell a second time. He cut his head on a rock as he went down, and lay there with his arms outsprawled, senseless. As he did so Stephanie stepped forward with uplifted foot as if to stamp upon him. The next moment, Harnash, thinking her mad, clasped her in his arms.
"Stop, stop," he cried. "What has he done to you?"
"It was the only way," screamed Stephanie, hysterically. "Look!"
Then, and not until then, did they appreciate the meaning of her action. It was plain to the jealous heart of Truda. She had seen the first blow and the second. She had seen her lover go down. She saw him lying there. What was this woman doing? How dared she lift a hand against Beekman? Had he been killed? Rage--hot, savage, passionate--filled Truda’s heart. There would be time enough to die later. Meanwhile she must teach this woman a lesson.