t.

The convict whirled, shook the hair out of his eyes, and charged again. It
was a sledge-hammer bout, with no rules except to hit the other man often
and hard. Twice Curly went down from chance blows, but each time he rolled
away and got to his feet before his heavy foe could close with him.
Blackwell had no science. His arms went like flails. Though by sheer
strength he kept Flandrau backing, the latter hit cleaner and with more
punishing effect.

Curly watched his chance, dodged a wild swing, and threw himself forward
hard with his shoulder against the chest of the convict. The man staggered
back, tripped on the lowest step of the porch, and went down hard. The
fall knocked the breath out of him.

"Had enough?" demanded Curly.

For answer Blackwell bit his thumb savagely.

"Since you like it so well, have another taste." Curly, now thoroughly
angry, sent a short-arm jolt to the mouth.

The man underneath tried to throw him off, but Flandrau's fingers found
his hairy throat and tight-

[Transcriber's Note: the last line printed in the preceeding paragraph was
"tight-" and that was at a page break. The continuation was not printed at
the top of the following page. From the context, "tightened" is likely the
completed word.]

"You're killing me," the convict gasped.

"Enough?"

"Y-yes."

Curly stepped back quickly, ready either for a knife or a gun-play.
Blackwell got to his feet, and glared at him.

"A man is like a watermelon; you can't most generally tell how good he is
till you thump him," Sam chuckled.

Cranston laughed. "Curly was not so ripe for picking as you figured, Lute.
If you'd asked me, I could a-told you to put in yore spare time letting
him alone. But a fellow has to buy his own experience."

The victor offered his hand to Blackwell. "I had a little luck. We'll call
it quits if you say so."

"I stumbled over the step," the beaten man snarled.

"Sure. I had all the luck."

"Looked to me like you were making yore own luck, kid," Bad Bill
differed.

The paroled convict went into the house, swearing to get even. His face
was livid with fury.

"You wouldn't think a little thing like a whaling given fair and square
would make a man hold a grudge. My system has absorbed se-ve-real without
doing it any harm." Sam stooped to inspect a rapidly discoloring eye.
"Say, Curly, he hung a peach of a lamp on you."

Soapy made no comment in words, but he looked at Flandrau with a new
respect.