English, and Ah'll prove
it!"

"Aw, wade into him!" advised Joe Byng. "London Prize Rules--no time
called until a man's down. Go on, Curley--lead!"

"Do you agree?" asked Crothers.

"Suttainly!" The black man seemed disposed to agree to anything so long
as he could get what he was after.

"Then here goes!" said Crothers; and he stepped in and led for the honor
of the British Navy.

Oh! It was a fight! Crothers knew what he was up against the instant
that his left fist slid along an ebony forearm and his nose collided
with what seemed like an iron club. Steamship pilot this man might not
be, but fighting man he very surely was. He hit straight and guarded
high. He was no untutored savage. He had the hardest to acquire of all
the Christian arts at his fingers' (or rather his fists') ends, and
the heavyweight champion of Gosport took a double reef in his fighting
tactics while he sparred for time in which to recover from the shock
of that first blow. The claret was streaming down his face and he was
dizzy.

"Oh, wade into him, mate!" urged Joe.

It is always easier to see what should be done than to do it. The sand
was not slipping and giving under Joe Byng's feet, nor were his fists
and wrists aching from contact with hard ebony. To him the thing seemed
easy, and he was as anxious to get into the fight himself as was the
terrier that strained at his chain. But Crothers, who had won a hundred
fights at least in cleaner climes, fought canny and tried to make the
black man tire himself with wasted effort.

And the Arabs sat in silence, like a row of vultures waiting for the
end. Even the little children held their clamor and subsided into
motionless calm. There was not a movement along the roofs or the wall,
or in the rings of those who squatted. Arabia was spellbound, watching
something she had never seen before and trying to puzzle out the
wherefore of it. There were knives and guns available, yet these men
fought without weapons. The white contender had a friend, but the friend
did not join in. Why? Had Allah struck all three men mad? They sat
still to see the end, having no doubt but that it would prove to be a
judgment.

Curley Crothers was the first to close a round. He put an end to round
one at the end of three minutes by missing with a heavy right swing,
ducking to avoid terrific punishment, slipping in the yielding sand and
falling.

"Back with you!" yelled Joe Byng, afraid that the pilot would take