Royce's playing with Blenham was short.

There came a sudden shuffling of feet--and Royce's laugh; a blow
landing heavily--and Royce's laugh; another blow, a grunt, and a panted
curse from Blenham--and Royce's laugh.

And then only a scraping of feet up and down, back and forth along the
bare floor, the thudding of heavy shoulders into an unexpected wall,
the impact of fist against body. In the utter darkness the two men
gripped each other, struck, swayed together, staggered apart, only to
come together again to strike harder, more merciless blows.

Packard and Barbee now held their breaths while the others panted
freely; both Packard and Barbee, stepping quickly now this way and now
that as the battling forms swayed up and down, sought to gauge what was
happening by the sounds which came to their ears.

Muttered imprecations, scuffling feet in a rude dance of rage, another
heavy, thudding blow, a coughing curse. Whose? Blenham's, since after
it came Bill Royce's laugh. Another blow, fresh pounding and scraping
of boots--blow on top of blow, curse on top of curse--a man falling
heavily----

Who was down? Royce of Blenham?

"Bill!" called Packard. "Bill!"

No answer save that of two big bodies rolling together on the floor.
Both were down, Royce and Blenham. Both were fighting, wordless and
infuriated. Who was on top?

No man on top long, no man under the other more than a second. The
rolling bodies struck against Packard's leg and he drew back, giving
them room. The dust puffing up from the floor filled his nostrils.
The room was becoming unendurably close, sickeningly close. The sweat
must be streaming from both men by now. Packard sniffed, fancying the
acrid smell of fresh blood. The big bulks rolled and threshed and
whipped here and there----

"Hell!"

It was a cry of mingled rage and pain; it came bursting explosively
from Blenham's lips. Royce's laugh followed it; Packard shivered.

"Bill!" he cried. "Bill!"

Royce did not answer; perhaps for the very good reason that he did not
hear. There were other matters now engaging his attention solely and
exclusively. The fighting fury, the hate frenzy was riding him and he
in turn was riding his enemy. Cool sanity and hot blood-lust do not
find places side by side in the same brain. A second time came the
horrible cry from Blenham. Packard struck a match hastily and lighted
the lamp.

Packard and Barbee together dragged Royce away, let