ale went to the hard pressed Svenson's assistance--Iron Man
McCorquodale, former near middleweight champion--and the light of
battle was in his eye.

A man ran out of the bush, his yellow teeth bared in a snarl of rage.
He wore a bandage across his forehead and came at Kendrick, levelling
his rifle. Just as he pulled the trigger he tripped on a root and
pitched full length into the open, the gun exploding harmlessly into
the ground. Phil had him by the throat in an instant.

"Kom on! Kom on, by Yiminy!" bellowed Svenson exultantly as he shook
his tawny head and blew the blood from his mouth. "Yust took a look at
may! Ay ben give you nodder bellyful, y'batcha!" He ducked low to
avoid the vicious sweep of a heavy stick, grabbed the assailant by the
ankles and swung him around his head as if the man had weighed but
twenty pounds. Only two were left facing him now and they fell back
before this terrible antagonist, swearing impotently.

McCorquodale had met a new arrival on the scene with a fierce uppercut
that felled him like an ox and was slowly pressing a second arrival
back into the bush with right and left swings to the face that landed
so swift and sure that the fellow literally was blinded by the blows.
It was Weiler, and the detective growled as he fought.

The tide of battle gradually was turning. So many of the enemy were
down and out that it was beginning to look as if Kendrick and his
friends would win through to the river if they could but keep up the
terrific pace for a few minutes longer. This, however, was reckoning
without the sudden reversion of the odds against them by the arrival of
Red McIvor and two more men from the camp. They came running into
sight around the turn in the tote road and McIvor was cursing like a
wild man as he bore down on the struggle.

If the others had neglected the advantage which fire-arms gave them,
not so Red McIvor. Within fifty paces he stopped short, dropped to his
knee and deliberately raised his rifle.

"You ---- ---- fools!" he yelled. "Clear away from them!"

He was aiming at the big Swede; but as Phil finished choking the
halfbreed who had attacked him and sprang to his feet, McIvor swung his
rifle.

Kendrick dropped in his tracks.

McCorquodale turned quickly at sound of the shot, just in time to see
his leader go down. He fired from the hip and at the bark of his
automatic Red McIvor pitched over sideways.

For a moment the two men beside him