deadliest of insults. It was calling him an Iskwao--a
woman--a weakling--a thing too contemptible to harden one's fist
against. But the murmur died in an instant. For Reese Beaudin, making
as if to step back, shot suddenly forward--straight through the giant's
crooked arms--and it was his fist this time that landed squarely
between the eyes of Dupont. The monster's head went back, his great
body wavered, and then suddenly he plunged backward off the platform
and fell with a crash to the ground.

A yell went up from the hooded stranger. Joe Delesse split his throat.
The crowd drowned Reese Beaudin's voice. But above it all rose a
woman's voice shrieking forth a name.

And then Jacques Dupont was on the platform again. In the moments that
followed one could almost hear his neighbor's heart beat. Nearer and
still nearer to each other drew the two men. And now Dupont crouched
still more, and Joe Delesse held his breath. He noticed that Reese
Beaudin was standing almost on the tips of his toes--that each instant
he seemed prepared, like a runner, for sudden flight. Five
feet--four--and Dupont leapt in, his huge arms swinging like the limb
of a tree, and his weight following with crushing force behind his
blow. For an instant it seemed as though Reese Beaudin had stood to
meet that fatal rush, but in that same instant--so swiftly that only
the hooded stranger knew what had happened--he was out of the way, and
his left arm seemed to shoot downward, and then up, and then his right
straight out, and then again his left arm downward, and up--and it was
the third blow, all swift as lightning, that brought a yell from the
hooded stranger. For though none but the stranger had seen it, Jacques
Dupont's head snapped back--and all saw the fourth blow that sent him
reeling like a man struck by a club.

There was no sound now. A mental and a vocal paralysis seized upon the
inhabitants of Lac Bain. Never had they seen fighting like this
fighting of Reese Beaudin. Until now had they lived to see the science
of the sawdust ring pitted against the brute force of Brobdingnagian,
of Antaeus and Goliath. For Reese Beaudin's fighting was a fighting
without tricks that they could see. He used his fists, and his fists
alone. He was like a dancing man. And suddenly, in the midst of the
miracle, they saw Jacques Dupont go down. And the second miracle was
that Reese Beaudin did not leap on him when he had fallen. He stood
back a little, balancing