e upper was still lifted snarlingly from the
red-stained teeth.

Ramon Garcia, watching with an interested smile, nodded his head as
though in approval and glanced at Ernestine Dumont upon the table above
him. Much of the colour had gone out of her cheeks, leaving them drawn
and pallid. Her parted lips too showed the whiteness of her hard set
teeth.

"I," meditated Ramon Garcia as his eyes returned to the two men, "I
should be less frightened of George than of her. Her eyes are like a
devil."

A bare fisted, relentless, give and take fight such as this promised to
be is common enough wherever hard men foregather, dirt-common in a
country where the fag end of a long winter of enforced idleness leaves
restless nerves raw. The uncommon thing about the brief battle or in
any way connected with it lay in the attitude of the onlookers. Rarely
is a crowd so unanimous both in expectation and desire. George would
kill Drennen or would nearly kill him, and it would be a good thing. A
man of no friends, Drennen had no sympathiser. No man who watched with
narrowed eyes, no woman on table or chair or hiding her face in her
hands, but asked and looked for the same ending.

Though from the first it was apparent that George was the bigger man,
the heavier, the stronger, it was silently conceded that these
qualities though they mean much do not count for everything. It became
clear almost as they met for the first blows that the slenderer was
quicker and that if Kootanie George was confident Drennen was no less
so. And, when they both reeled backward, a many-voiced murmur of
surprise was like a reluctant admission: Drennen had done two things
which no other man had ever done before him; he had kept his feet
against the smashing drive of that big fist in his face and he had made
George stagger. For the moment it looked as though the two would fall.

Once more George came forward slowly while Drennen waited for him,
again they met, Drennen leaping forward just as the Canadian's sledge
of a clenched hand was lifted. Each man threw up a guarding left arm
only to have his brawny guard beaten through as again the two
resounding blows landed almost like one; this time there was a trickle
of red from the Canadian's mouth, a panting, wheezing cough from the
American as he received the other's blow full in the chest. For a
dizzy moment they stood separated by the very fury of their onslaught,
each balancing.

"They are men!"