sprang to meet the
savage, blue-kilted figure. Taking advantage of his longer reach, he
let fly with his right fist. The Kachin was clearly no boxer, for
though he raised his left arm, Jack's fist went straight through the
feeble guard and landed full between his opponent's eyes. This shook
the Kachin so much that the vicious knife-thrust he launched went wide
of its mark, and at the next moment Jack closed with him and tried to
wrench the knife from his grasp.

But though the Kachin was no boxer, he was a wrestler of uncommon
power and skill, and Jack felt the little man seize upon him with an
iron clutch. To and fro they swung on the horrible, dizzying edge,
each straining every nerve and muscle to free himself from his enemy's
clutch and fling his opponent into the torrent which roared and foamed
far below.

Locked in this clinging embrace, they stumbled and fell headlong,
still bound together by that straining clutch. They were now actually
hanging with heads over the brink of the gulf, and the uproar of the
rushing waters below sounded loud in Jack's ears. Suddenly he felt
that they were both going over, slowly but steadily. The Kachin was no
longer trying to master his foe. So that his enemy went, he was
willing to fall with him. He was now driving his heels into the
roadway, and, with all the force of the iron muscles packed in his
compact body, was trying to force himself and Jack over the brink.

Before Jack had mastered his meaning, the pair were head and shoulders
clear of the last beam, and the Kachin was working his way outwards
and downwards, inch by inch. Jack made a terrific effort and hurled
himself backwards. He gained a few of the lost inches, and felt his
shoulders against the edge of the beam. Getting a purchase, he strove
to raise himself and fling the Kachin off. In vain. The arms were
closed around him in a powerful grip, the savage face within a few
inches of his own was working convulsively with hate and rage, and the
Kachin now was blind to everything save the desire of destroying the
white man.

Another twist and turn in the desperate life-and-death wrestle, and
Jack's face was turned towards the opposite side of the gulf. But this
was only to show him that a new danger hung over him with fearful
menace. He looked straight down a gun-barrel. On the farther brink
knelt one of his enemies, a long-barrelled muzzle-loader in his hands.
He was leaning across with the evident purpose of firin