site wall. He staggered to his feet, dazed for a moment, and Jean
Croisset stood in the middle of the floor, his caribou skin coat thrown
off, his hands clenched, his eyes darkening with a dangerous fire. As
quickly as it had come, the fire died away, and as he advanced slowly,
his shoulders punched over, his white teeth gleamed in a smile. Howland
smiled back, and advanced to meet him. There was no humor, no
friendliness in the smiles. Both had seen that flash of teeth and deadly
scintillation of eyes at other times, both knew what it meant.

"I believe that I will kill you, M'seur," said Jean softly. There was
no excitement, no tremble of passion in his voice. "I have been thinking
that I ought to kill you. I had almost made up my mind to kill you when
I came back to this _Maison de Mort Rouge_. It is the justice of God
that I kill you!"

The two men circled, like beasts in a pit, Howland in the attitude of a
boxer, Jean with his shoulders bent, his arms slightly curved at his
side, the toes of his moccasined feet bearing his weight. Suddenly he
launched himself at the other's throat.

In a flash Howland stepped a little to one side and shot out a crashing
blow that caught Jean on the side of the head and sent him flat on his
back. Half-stunned Croisset came to his feet. It was the first time that
he had ever come into contact with science. He was puzzled. His head
rang, and for a few moments he was dizzy. He darted in again, in his
old, quick, cat-like way, and received a blow that dazed him. This time
he kept his feet.

"I am sure now that I am going to kill you, M'seur," he said, as coolly
as before.

There was something terribly calm and decisive in his voice. He was not
excited. He was not afraid. His fingers did not go near the weapons in
his belt, and slowly the smile faded from Howland's lips as Jean circled
about him. He had never fought a man of this kind; never had he looked
on the appalling confidence that was in his antagonist's eyes. From
those eyes, rather than from the man, he found himself slowly
retreating. They followed him, never taking themselves from his face. In
them the fire returned and grew deeper. Two dull red spots began to glow
in Croisset's cheeks, and he laughed softly when he suddenly leaped in
so that Howland struck at him--and missed. He knew what to expect now.
And Howland knew what to expect.

It was the science of one world pitted against that of another--the
science of civi