gargoyle instead of a thing
of flesh and blood. And Aldous was terrible to look at, but in a way that
wrung a moaning cry from Joanne. His face was livid from the beat of the
rocks; it was crusted with blood; his eyes were partly closed, and what
remained of his shirt was drenched with blood that still ran from the deep
cuts in his arms and shoulders. But it was he who advanced, and Quade who
stood and waited.

Aldous knew little or nothing of knife-fighting; and he realized, also,
that there was a strange weakness in his arms and body caused by his battle
with the maelstroms in the chasm. But he had wrestled a great deal with the
Indians of the north, who fought as their half-wolf sledgedogs fought, and
he employed their methods now. Slowly and deliberately he began to circle
around Quade, so that Quade became the pivot of that circle, and as he
circled he drew nearer and nearer to his enemy, but never in a frontal
advance. He edged inward, with his knife-arm on the outside. His deadly
deliberateness and the steady glare of his eyes discomfited Quade, who
suddenly took a step backward.

It was always when the Indian made this step that his opponent darted in;
and Aldous, with this in mind, sprang to the attack. Their knives clashed
in midair. As they met, hilt to hilt, Aldous threw his whole weight against
Quade, darted sidewise, and with a terrific lunge brought the blade of his
knife down between Quade's shoulders. A straight blade would have gone from
back to chest through muscle and sinew, but the knife which Aldous held
scarcely pierced the other's clothes.

Not until then did he fully realize the tremendous odds against him. The
curved blade of his skinning-knife would not penetrate! His one hope was to
cut with it. He flung out his arm before Quade had fully recovered, and
blind luck carried the keen edge of the knife across his enemy's pouchy
cheek. The blood came in a spurt, and with a terrible cry Quade leaped back
toward the pile of saddles and panniers. Before Aldous could follow his
advantage the other had dropped his knife and had snatched up a four-foot
length of a tepee pole. For a moment he hesitated while the blood ran in a
hot flood down his thick neck. Then with a bellow of rage he rushed upon
Aldous.

It was no time for knife-work now. As the avalanche of brute strength
descended upon him Aldous gathered himself for the shock. He had already
measured his own weakness. Those ten minutes among the