,
ducking, side-stepping, he circled the clearing. Once his foot slipped
on the barrel of Garman's rifle, and he kicked it to one side. As he
did so Garman kicked again, at the knee this time; but now Roger was
ready, he caught his foot behind the other's heel, heaved up and threw
the big man heavily.

"God--you!" bellowed Garman as he sprang up, and the smile was gone
from his face.

The fighting now became bestial, brutal, animal-like in its unreasoning
fury. Driven wild with humiliation over the heavy throw, Garman
lowered his head and charged like a mad bull, butting, striking,
kicking. His blows were wild, but their power was irresistible;
Roger's guard was beaten down, he tried in vain to escape; and one of
the blows went home on his forehead and knocked him into the palmetto
scrub. With both feet he kicked viciously at the huge head that was
rushing at him; Garman's rush stopped sharply; and Roger was on his
feet and out in the open ere his opponent had recovered.

Garman was insane with rage; Roger was icy calm. They had been
fighting so long now and so furiously that he knew the end could not be
long delayed. He realized how narrowly he had escaped; had his kick
missed Garman would have been on top of him. He must not go down again.

His heart was thumping so his ribs shook, and his breath was coming in
gulps between parted lips. Garman's lips were smashed beyond all
resemblance to a mouth, and the heaving of his great chest told how the
pace was telling. His first kick had done the work, however. A
numbness was spreading over Roger's right leg. In the heat of combat
he had not realized how severe was the kick that had been dealt him,
but now the fact came home.

He was slowing up. Well, he would do all the damage he could before
the stiffening limb permitted Garman to catch him in that horrible
gorilla grip. And then Garman spoke:

"You got the girl you ---- young pup, but I've got you."

New strength coursed through Roger's heart. His lightninglike feint
drew Garman's guard low; he swung his right in an over-hand blow full
upon his opponent's hawk-like nose. Garman's mouth opened wide as he
struggled for breath, and Roger knew the damage he had done. Again he
feinted, again he swung--and a bone in his right hand snapped as the
fist went home on the top of his enemy's suddenly lowered head.

Garman laughed through the welter of his broken face, and rushed, and
Roger's straight left