nlight and lifted his
sword to guard. The blow fell, fire sprang from it in sparks, and down
rattled fragments of shattered steel. His sword was broken.

"Fight on, Baas," said the voice of Otter, "fight on! Both swords have
gone."

Leonard looked up. It was true: the Portugee was casting aside his
broken weapon and clutching at his knife. Now Leonard had no knife, and
at the moment he never thought of his revolver. But he still held the
hilt of his sword, and with it he sprang straight at Xavier, who rushed
to meet him.

They met with a dull shock as bull meets bull. Leonard struck one blow
with the broken sword-hilt, then dropped it--it was useless. But the
stroke did him good service, for, falling on the right hand of the
Portugee, it paralysed his arm for a second, causing him to let fall the
dagger. Then they gripped each other, fighting desperately with their
naked strength alone. Twice the huge Portugee lifted the Englishman
from the ground, striving to throw him, while the crowd yelled with
excitement, but twice he failed. Not for nothing had Leonard learnt
wrestling as a lad and hardened his iron muscles by years of toil.
Xavier may have weighed sixteen stone and Leonard did not weigh
thirteen, but his arms were like bars of steel and he was struggling for
dear life.

He waited awhile, letting the Portugee exhaust himself in efforts to
hurl him to the ground. Then suddenly tightening his grip, Leonard put
out all his strength. He could not hope to lift the man, that he knew,
but he might throw him. With a sudden movement he hooked his right leg
behind Xavier's left calf. Then he cast his weight forward and pushed
with all his strength upon the great man's breast.

Xavier tottered, recovered himself, tottered again, and strove to shift
his leg. Leonard felt the movement and met it with a supreme effort.
Losing his balance, his foe swayed slowly backwards like a falling tree,
then fell with a thud that shook the ground. It was a gallant throw, and
even the "ranks of Tusculum" as represented by the slave-drivers "could
scarce forbear to cheer." Now Leonard lay upon the breast of the man,
for he was dragged to earth with him.

For a moment his enemy was still, breathing stertorously, for the shock
of their fall had been great. Leonard looked round; there, some eight
feet away, was the knife, and he who could grasp it must win this deadly
game. But how could he grasp it? Xavier, whose strength and powers
wer