he men were close-locked, and tugging and straining for an advantage.
Bob crouched lower and lower with a well-defined notion of getting a
twist on his opponent. For an instant he partially freed one side. Like
lightning Roaring Dick delivered a fierce straight kick at his groin.
The blow missed its aim, but Bob felt the long, sharp spikes tearing the
flesh of his thigh. Sheer surprise relaxed his muscles for the fraction
of an instant. Roaring Dick lowered his head, rammed it into Bob's chin,
and at the same time reached for the young man's gullet with both hands.
Bob tore his head out of reach in the nick of time. As they closed again
Roaring Dick's right hand was free. Bob felt the riverman's thumb
fumbling for his eyeball.

"Why, he wants to cripple me, to kill me!" the young man cried to
himself. So vivid was the astonishment of this revelation to his
sportsman's soul that he believed he had said it aloud. This was no mere
fight, it was a combat. In modern civilized conditions combats are
notably few and far between. It is difficult for the average man to come
to a realization that he must in any circumstances depend on himself for
the preservation of his life. Even to the last moment the victim of the
real melodrama that occasionally breaks out in the most unlikely places
is likely to be more concerned with his outraged dignity than with his
peril. That thumb, feeling eagerly for his eye-socket, woke Bob to a new
world. A swift anger rushed over him like a hot wave.

This man was trying to injure him. Either the kick or the gouge would
have left him maimed for life. A sudden fierce desire to beat his
opponent into the earth seized Bob. With a single effort he wrenched his
arms free.

Now this fact has been noted again and again: mere size has often little
to do with a man's physical prowess. The list of anecdotes wherein the
little fellow "puts it all over" the big bully is exceptionally long.
Nor are more than a bare majority of the anecdotes baseless. In our own
lumber woods a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound man with no other weapon
than his two hands once nearly killed a two-hundred-pound blacksmith for
pushing him off a bench. This phenomenon arises from the fact that the
little man seems capable often of releasing at will a greater flood of
dynamic energy than a big man. We express this by saying that it is the
spirit that counts. As a matter of truth the big man may have as much
courage as the little man. It