t you out here in the swamp where nobody can see or
hear. Why, sonny, I doubt if they'll ever find you, or what's left,
after I get through."

Roger, calm again after his sudden effort, watched for an opening and
shot his left like a bullet against the huge, gross mouth. Almost in
the same second he side-stepped and brought his right in an arc to the
mark above Garman's belt and leaped back out of danger. Garman did not
stir, and though the blow on the mouth cut it did not efface the sneer
on his lips.

"Or what's left after I get through," he repeated. "Let your mind take
hold of that, sonny. It won't be pretty to look at, but never mind;
you won't be able to see it. All alone, out here in the swamp and the
buzzards will be waiting."

He lunged and Roger slipped by his guard, smashed his fist into the
mouth again and pivoted to safety.

"The buzzards will be waiting, Payne," continued Garman in his
monotone. "Big hungry one, up there in the cypress. But the Mexican
Buzzards, the little brown fellows, will come down from the trees
first--fierce little Mexican buzzards--not afraid to tackle a thing
still living a little and groaning!"

Roger scarcely heard the last words, for Garman was on him like a fury,
striking, clawing, cursing.

"Hit me, will you! Try your boxer's tricks on me, eh?" he roared.
"I'll stamp your head into the ground."

The rush carried them back to the fringe of palmetto scrub, and at the
touch of sharp leaves on his back Roger leaped to one side and away
from the scrub. So swiftly did he move that Garman was unable to turn
with him, and Roger flung his arms about the raging enemy's middle and
lifted him in the air. Then Garman laughed softly, for his paws
dropped upon Roger's wrists, as he threw himself face downward upon the
ground. Roger was on top but for a moment he was helpless, his wrists
imprisoned beneath Garman's body.

"The Mexican buzzards, sonny; the little fierce fellows. I've got you;
I've got you sure this time."

Roger relaxed in apparent defeat; then bending his supple body like a
bow he managed to drive a knee with all his power into the small of
Garman's back. The upper part of the huge, gross body came up with a
jerk; a cry of mingled pain and rage escaped Garman; his grip relaxed
and Roger tore himself free.

The terrific wrench of the back would have prostrated any normal man,
but Garman, rolling swiftly, came to his feet and rushed again with new
fu