or the mastery of the
hand at the throat, George dragging at it mightily, Drennen's fingers
crooked like talons with the tendons standing out so that they seemed
white cords in the lamplight. George's breath came in short, shorter
gasps, he tugged with swelling muscles, his own hand a terrible
wrenching vice at Drennen's wrist. And when the purple face grew more
hideously purple, when the short gasps were little dry sounds, speaking
piteously of agony and suffocation, when still the relentless grip at
his throat was unshaken, men began for the first time to guage the
strength which lay in the great, gaunt frame of Dave Drennen.

And George too had begun to understand. Suddenly his hand came away
from the iron wrist and sought Drennen's throat for which his wide
bulging eyes quested frantically. His hand found what it sought at
last, but Drennen had twisted his head still a little further to the
side, brought his face still lower and closer against the Canadian's
chest, and George could not get the grip where he wanted it, full upon
the front of the throat. He tore at the rigid muscles below the jaw a
moment and the bloody, broken skin of Drennen's neck told with what
fury George had striven.

But George must hasten now and he knew it. Again his right hand sought
Drennen's left, fought at the deadly grip at his own throat. In his
reach a quick cunning came to him and his groping fingers passed along
Drennen's wrist and did not tarry there. Up and up they went, the
great questing fingers of the Canadian, until at last they found the
fingers of the other man. Here they settled. And then those who
watched saw the middle finger of Drennen's hand drawn back from the
flesh of George's neck, saw it bent back and back, still further back
until it was a pure wonder that Drennen held on, back and back. . . .
And then there was a little snap of a bone broken and Drennen's hand
fell away and Kootanie George, drawing a long, sobbing breath, rolled
clear of him and slowly rose to his feet.

Drennen too rose but not so slowly. His left hand was at his side, the
one broken finger standing oddly apart from its fellows, as he ran the
three steps to meet Kootanie George. George threw up his arm, but the
savagery of the blow beating upon him struck the guard aside and
Kootanie George, caught fairly upon the chin flung out his arms and
went down. He brushed against the wall behind him in falling and so
came only to his knees