le the committee
established the side lines and the referee conferred with Mormon,
Russell and their seconds in the open. Sandy and Sam appointed
themselves corner men for Mormon, and Sandy asked Westlake to make the
third. A roulette dealer from Plimsoll's and a bartender ranged
themselves alongside Russell, together with Plimsoll himself. Pardee
eyed the group.

"There's bad blood between you two," he said to Plimsoll and Sandy. "I
understand you've got your own grudges. You'd better keep clear of this.
And I'm tellin' you both this," he added. "This camp is in the
rough-and-ready stage, but there's enough of us who've got together to
see it's goin' to be run decent an' regular. We're goin' to establish
fair play and order, from now on. We don't expect to run no man's
affairs so long's they don't interfere with the general welfare of the
camp, but, if there's any dirty work pulled off, the man that spills the
dirt is goin' to be interviewed pronto. Things are goin' to be run
clean. We ain't goin' to give this camp a bad name at the start."

"Suits me," said Sandy. "My blood's runnin' cool enough, Pardee."

"I'm not talkin' personal, 'cept so far as this bout is concerned. You
two had better stay out of it."

Sandy stepped back and Plimsoll, after a few whispered words to Russell,
followed suit.

"You men want another second apiece?" asked Pardee. "Or are two enough?"

"The Roarin' gent," said Mormon, "made his brags an' I took it up. Me, I
don't know nothin' about Queensbury rules an', though the camp seems to
have arranged this affair to suit itself, I didn't bargain for no boxin'
match, nor no wrastlin' match either. It's either he can lick me, man to
man, or I lick him. An' a lickin' don't mean puttin' down shoulders on a
mat. If a man goes down, t'other lets him git up, if he can. Bar
kickin', bitin', gougin' an' dirty work, an' to hell with yore seconds
an' yore rounds. This ain't no exhibition. It's a fight!"

He spoke loudly enough for most of the crowd to hear, and they cheered
him till the hills echoed.

"That suit you, Russell?" asked Pardee sharply.

Russell, stripping to the waist, belting himself, stood forward.

"Suits me," he said. "Suit me better to cut out all this talk an' get
this over with. It won't take long."

He was a formidable-looking adversary. In the moonlight certain signs of
puffiness, of dissipation, did not show, save for rolls of fat about
shoulders and paunch. He was power