ton off his feet for a moment; but recovery came
just as quickly, a recoil with the red splotches of anger blazing
before his eyes, the surge of hot blood sweeping through his veins, the
heat of conflict in his brain. His good hand clenched. A leap and he
had struck the foreman on the point of the chin, sending him reeling
backward, while the other men rushed to his assistance.

"That's my answer to you!" shouted Houston. "This is my flume and--"

"Run tell Thayer!" shouted the foreman, and then with recovering
strength, he turned for a cant hook. But Ba'tiste seized it first, and
with a great wrench, threw it far out of the way. Then, like some
great, human trip hammer, he swung into action, spinning Houston out of
the way as he went forward, his big fists churning, his voice bellowing
his call of battle:

"Climb up me! Climb up me!"

The foreman stooped for a club,--and rose just in time to be lifted
even higher, at the point of Ba'tiste's right fist then to drop in a
lump. Then they were all about him, seeking for an opening, fists
pounding, heavy shoes kicking at shins, while in the rear, Houston,
scrambling around with his one arm, almost happy with the enthusiasm of
battle, swung hard and often at every opportunity, then swerved and
covered until he could bring his fist into action again.

The fight grew more intense with a last spurt, then died out, as
Ba'tiste, seizing the smallest of the men, lifted him bodily and
swinging him much after the fashion of a sack of meal, literally used
him as a battering ram against the rest of the attacking forces. For a
last time, Houston hit a skirmisher and was hit in return. Then
Ba'tiste threw his human weapon from him, straight into the mass of men
whom he had driven back for a second, tumbling them all in a
scrambling, writhing heap at the edge of the flume.

"Climb up me!" he bellowed, as they struggled to their feet. "Ah,
_oui_?" And the big arms moved threateningly. "Climb up me!"

But the invitation was not accepted. Bloody, eyes discolored, mouth
and nose steadily swelling, the foreman moved away with his battered
crew, finally to disappear in the forest. Ba'tiste reached for the
cant hook, and balancing it lightly in one hand, sought a resting place
on the edge of the flume. Houston sat beside him.

"What on earth can it all mean?" he asked, after a moment of thought.

"They go back--get more men. Mebbe they think they whip us, _oui_?
Yes?