tter's face turned
ashy white as he sank to his knees. Corrigan stopped to catch his breath
before he hurled himself forward, and this respite, brief as it was,
helped the other to shake off the deadening effect of the blow. He moved
his head slightly as Corrigan swung at it, and the blow missed, its force
pulling the big man off his feet, so that he tumbled headlong over his
adversary. He was up again in a flash though, for he was fresher than his
enemy. They clinched, and stood straining, matching strength against
strength, sheer, without trickery, for the madness of murder was in the
heart of one and the desperation of fear in the soul of the other, and
they thought of nothing but to crush and batter and pound.

Corrigan's strength was slightly the greater, but it was offset by the
other's fury. In the clinch the big man's right hand came up, the heel of
the palm shoved with malignant ferocity against Trevison's chin.
Corrigan's left arm was around Trevison's waist, squeezing it like a vise,
and the whole strength of Corrigan's right arm was exerted to force the
other's head back. Trevison tried to slip his head sideways to escape the
hold, but the effort was fruitless. Changing his tactics, his breath
lagging in his throat from the terrible pressure on it, Trevison worked
his right hand into the other's stomach with the force and regularity of a
piston rod. The big man writhed under the punishment, dropping his hand
from Trevison's chin to his waist, swung him from his feet and threw him
from him as a man throws a bag of meal.

He was after him before he landed, but the other writhed and wriggled in
the air like a cat, and when the big man reached for him, trying again to
clinch, he evaded the arm and landed a crushing blow on the other's chin
that snapped his head back as though it were swung from a hinge, and sent
him reeling, to his knees in the dust.

The watching girl saw the ring of men around the fighters contract; she
saw Trevison dive headlong at the kneeling man; with fingers working in a
fury of impotence she swayed at the iron rail, leaning far over it, her
eyes strained, her breath bated, constricting her lungs as though a steel
band were around them. For she seemed to feel that the end was near.

She saw them, locked in each other's embrace, stagger to their feet.
Corrigan's head was wabbling. He was trying to hold the other to him that
he might escape the lashing blows that were driven at his head.