become
silent; for, though the Indian seemed disabled, the _mozo_ stood before
him weaponless. The tough, slender rod which made the handle of his
war axe had snapped like a pipestem under the force of his blow, and
even the rawhide covering was torn loose from the head of stone, which
lay, with a foot of the broken hard-wood staff still attached, upon the
ground between the two antagonists.

Juan cast away the bit of rod still in his hand and rushed forward
against his enemy, seeking to throttle him with his naked fingers.
White Calf, quicker-witted of the two, slung the thong of his war club
free from his crippled right hand, and, grasping the weapon in his
left, still made play with it about his head. The giant none the less
rushed in, receiving upon his shoulder a blow from the left hand of the
Indian which cut the flesh clean to the collar bone, in a great bruised
wound which was covered at once with a spurt of blood. The next
instant the two fell together, the Indian beneath his mighty foe, and
the two writhing in a horrible embrace. The hands of the _mozo_
gripped the Indian's throat, and he uttered a rasping, savage roar of
triumph, more beastlike than human, as he settled hard upon the chest
of the enemy whose life he was choking out. Again rose the savage
cries of the on-lookers.

Not even yet had the end come. There was a heaving struggle, a sharp
cry, and Juan sprang back, pressing his hand against his side, where
blood came from between his fingers. The Indian had worked his left
hand to the sheath of his knife, and stabbed the giant who had so
nearly overcome him. Staggering, the two again stood erect, and yet
again came the cries from the many red men and the little band of
whites who were witnessing this barbarous and brutal struggle. Bows
were bending among the blankets, but the four rifles now pointed
steadily out. One movement would have meant death to many, but that
movement was fore-stalled in the still more rapid happenings of the
unfinished combat. For one-half second the two fighting men stood
apart, the one stunned at his unexpected wound, the other startled that
the wound had not proved fatal. Seeing his antagonist still on his
feet. White Calf for the first time lost courage. With the knife
still held in his left hand, he hesitated whether to join again in the
encounter, or himself to guard against the attack of a foe so proof to
injury. He half turned and gave back for a pace