ersary.

The bedrock on which they fought was slippery where ice had formed in
the crevices. Two seamen tackled Hansen. He stopped the curses of one
with a straight punch to his mouth, but the man clung to his arm,
bearing it down. Hansen swung at the other, and the blow went over the
shoulder as he dodged, but Hansen got him in chancery, and the three,
staggering, swearing, sliding, went down at last together, with Hansen
underneath, twisting one's neck to shut off his wind while he warded off
the wild blows of the second. With a wild heave he got on all-fours,
and then Lund, roaring like a bull as he came, tore off a seaman and
flung him headlong.

"Pound him, Hansen!" he shouted, his eyes hard with purpose, shining
like ice that reflects the sun, his nostrils wide, glorying in the
fight.

The Finn had got himself together a bit, wiping the gouts of blood from
his face and spitting out the snags of his broken teeth. He drew a knife
from inside his shirt, a long, curving blade, and sidled, like a crab,
toward Lund, murder in his piggy, bloodshot eyes, waiting for a chance
to slip in and stab Lund in the back, calling to a comrade to help him.

"Come on," he called, "Olsen, wit' yore knife. Gut the swine!"

Another blade flashed out, and the pair advanced, crouching, knees and
bodies bent. Lund backed warily toward the opposite cliff, looking for a
loose rock fragment. He had forbidden knives to the sailors since the
mutiny, and had forced a delivery, but these two had been hidden. A
knife to the Finn was a natural accessory. Only his drunken frenzy had
made him try to beat Lund at his own game.

One of the two hunters, lamed with a kick on the knee, howling with the
pain, clinched savagely and bore the seaman down, battering his head
against a knob of rock. The other friendly hunter had bashed and
buffeted his opponent to submission. But Rainey was in hard case.

A seaman, half Mexican, flew at him like a wildcat. Rainey struck out,
and his fists hit at the top of the breed's head without stopping him.
Then he clinched.

The Mexican was slippery as an eel. He got his arms free, his hands shot
up, and his thumbs sought the inner corners of Rainey's eyes. The
sudden, burning anguish was maddening and he drove his clasped fists
upward, wedging away the drilling fingers.

Two hands clawed at his shoulders from behind. Some one sprang fairly on
his back. A knee thrust against his spine.

The agony left him helpl