the other grappled
his legs. This man Higgins rewarded with a kick which would have
shattered a thinner skull to bits. Then two separate fights raged up
and down the spoil bank. Instantly Roger and Higgins realized that
they had their hands full. Payne ran into a body punch which made him
realize that his opponent was nearly his equal. Higgins was knocked
down at once, bounding up like a rubber ball and cheering the man who
struck him.

"That was a peach, that one!" he roared, and returned the compliment.
The man rose, knocked Higgins down again and jumped on him.

"Rough and tumble it is!" cried Higgins, and grappled with bear-like
arms.

Roger refused to go into a clinch, meeting his antagonist's rushes with
straight lefts, and following with futile swings of his right. The
tough was too skilled to be caught with a solid blow. Once Roger
landed full on the jaw with what he expected to be a knockout and the
blow glanced harmlessly, as the man rolled his head back with the
trained pugilist's skill. Roger realized that it would be no short
fight, and he thought of the man he had knocked into the canal. The
fight had raged down the spoil bank, and he glanced around and saw the
leader clawing his way up the bank. The pause nearly proved fatal.
Roger's opponent leaped in and caught his head in chancery.

"Hand it to him!" screamed the tough to his partner in the ditch.
"Shoot him in the back!"

With a mighty lunge Roger flung himself and his opponent to the ground
as a pistol snapped viciously and a steel-jacketed bullet zipped over
his head.

"Look out, Hig!" he shouted. "Stay under your man."

"Turn 'im over!" The leader who had crawled upon the spoil bank fired
again and missed. "Can't yah turn him up so I can get a crack at 'im?"

Roger felt the tough beneath him exerting all his energy. Slowly,
surely he felt himself being turned. Then out from the sawgrass came
the roar of a rifle, and a heavy slug whined over the gunman's head.

Bang! Another shot. Then the voice of Blease, the squatter:

"Next shot, I'll hold a foot lower. Throw that gun in the ditch.
Throw it, you----" Bang! "That's right--Now get 'em boys, get 'em!"

Bare feet came drumming down the dirt of the spoil bank. A huge Bahama
black was in the lead of his fellows. He leaped like something wild,
his machete flashing in the sun. The gunman cried out and tumbled to
safety in the ditch. The black men came with a rush. Th