grin on his face, his big arms and shoulders limp and
unprepared as Carrigan dodged in close and out again. And then--

A howl broke in the middle of the half-breed's throat. Where there had
been laughter, there came a sudden shutting off of sound, a great gasp,
as if made by choking men. Swifter than anything they had ever seen in
human action Carrigan had leaped in. They saw him strike. They heard
the blow. They saw St. Pierre's great head rock back, as if struck from
his shoulders by a club, and they saw and heard another blow, and a
third--like so many flashes of lightning--and St. Pierre went down as
if shot. The man they had laughed at was no longer like a hopping
sparrow. He was waiting, bent a little forward, every muscle in his
body ready for action. They watched for him to leap upon his fallen
enemy, kicking and gouging and choking in the riverman way. But David
waited, and St. Pierre staggered to his feet. His mouth was bleeding
and choked with sand, and a great lump was beginning to swell over his
eye. A deadly fire blazed in his face, as he rushed like a mad bull at
the insignificant opponent who had tricked and humiliated him. This
time Carrigan did not retreat, but held his ground, and a yell of joy
went up from Bateese as the mighty bulk of the giant descended upon his
victim. It was an avalanche of brute-force, crushing in its
destructiveness, and Carrigan seemed to reach for it as it came upon
him. Then his head went down, swifter than a diving grebe, and as St.
Pierre's arm swung like an oaken beam over his shoulder, his own shot
in straight for the pit of the other's stomach. It was a bull's-eye
blow with the force of a pile-driver behind it, and the groan that
forced its way out of St. Pierre's vitals was heard by every ear in the
cordon of watchers. His weight stopped, his arms opened, and through
that opening Carrigan's fist went a second time to the other's jaw, and
a second time the great St. Pierre Boulain sprawled out upon the sand.
And there he lay, and made no effort to rise.

Concombre Bateese, with his great mouth agape, stood for an instant as
if the blow had stunned him in place of his master. Then, suddenly he
came to life, and leaped to David's side.

"Diable! Tonnerre! You have not fight Concombre Bateese yet!" he
howled. "Non, you have cheat me, you have lie, you have run lak cat
from Concombre Bateese, ze stronges' man on all T'ree River! You are
wan' gran' coward, wan poltroon, a