swelling to
the breath which fairly whistled through his distended nostrils, popped
a button back through a frayed button hole and stood out like an
inflated bellows. "I just say, 'Damn you.' That is nothin' for a man
to fight. You look for trouble, an' by God, I am ready!"

He flung the coat from him and lifted his big hands. Drennen was
standing waiting for him, his own hands at his sides, his steely eyes
filled with an evil light. He made no answer beyond the silent one of
a slight lifting of his lip, like a soundless wolfish snarl.

"I forbid!" screamed Pere Marquette again. "Another time it is
nothing. To-night it is to insult Mamma Jeanne. Stop it, _chiens_!"

But Mamma Jeanne had her own word to say. Her plump arms were about
her indignant spouse, dragging him back.

"Let them be," she commanded. "Is not George a guest and has he not
the right to put his heel upon an evil serpent? It is just," she
cried, her eyes all fire. "It will be but a little minute and, _pouf_!
it is all over. Let them be!"

She had great faith in the prowess of her man, had Mere Marquette. Had
there been a thunder storm outside, had Pere Marquette wished it to
stop while Mere Marquette wanted it to continue, she would have put her
arms about him and pleaded, "Let it be."

"There shall be fon, _mes enfants_," whispered the old prophet from
Moosejaw.

Slowly, but light footed enough, lifting his great hands still a little
higher, Kootanie George came forward. Drennen waited, his lip raised
in the bitter snarl which seemed frozen upon his dark face, his grey
eyes malevolent. He had fought with many men, he was not afraid to
fight; all men there knew that. But they wondered, looking at him and
then at the other, if he understood the thing standing unhidden in
Kootanie George's eyes.

Yes, he understood. For, just the wee fraction of a second before the
Canadian struck, Drennen jerked up his own hands, ready for him. And
the two struck at the same instant. There was to be no finesse of
boxing; these men had no knowledge of fistic trickery. All that they
knew was to fight, to strike hard and straight from the shoulder,
opposing strength with strength, swiftness with swiftness, merciless
hatred with a hatred as merciless. And so it happened that both blows
landed, two little coughing grunts following close upon the impact
telling how mightily, and both men reeled back. There was blood upon
Drennen's lower lip. Th