with
his huge fists clenched he rushed at Conniston. In the sudden access
of rage which blinded the man Conniston might have stepped aside. But
it was no part of his grim purpose to temporize. As Brayley rushed
upon him Conniston, too, sprang forward, and the two men met with a
dull, heavy thud of panting bodies. Brayley's weight was the greater,
his rush fiercer, and Conniston was flung back in spite of his dogged
determination not to give up an inch. He had felt Brayley's iron fist
before, but not with the rage behind it which now drove it into
Conniston's face. The blow laid open his cheek and hurled him
backward, to land upon his feet, his body rocking dizzily, his back
jammed against the corral. And only the corral kept him from falling.

Again Brayley's great sledge-hammer fists shot out, Brayley's eyes
glowing redly behind them. Conniston knew that one more blow like the
last one, full in the face, and again he would have been beaten by
Brayley. He remembered--and, strangely enough, the remembrance came to
him calmly even while the heart within him beat as though bursting
against the walls of his chest and the blood hammered hot in his
ears--what Argyl had said the other day as they rode to Rattlesnake
Valley. She had told him that Brayley had licked him because Brayley
had been the better man. He knew that if Brayley beat him down now it
would be because he was the better man. And he had told Argyl that he
was going to lick Brayley. She had laughed. None the less, it was a
promise to her, his first promise, and he was going to keep it.

As Brayley charged for a second blow, Conniston stepped aside swiftly
and swung with his right arm, collecting every ounce of his strength
and putting it into the blow. Brayley tried to lift his arm to protect
himself, but the fraction of a second too late. Conniston's fist
landed squarely upon the corner of the foreman's jaw, just below the
ear. Brayley's arms flew out, and with a groan driven from between his
clenched teeth he went down in a heap.

For a moment he lay unable to rise, the black dizziness showing in his
swimming eyes. A month ago Conniston could not have struck such a
blow by many pounds. Already the range had done much, very much, for
him. But before a man could count five both the pain and astonishment
had gone from Brayley's eyes, giving place to the red anger which
surged back. And with the return of clamoring rage Brayley's dizziness
passed and he sprang