gain LeNoir approached, this time with greater
confidence, and dealt Macdonald a stinging blow on the side of the head.

"Now the Lord be praised," he cried, joy breaking out in his face. "He
has delivered my enemy into my hand. For it is the third time he has
smitten me, and that is beyond the limit appointed by Himself." With
this he advanced upon LeNoir with a glad heart. His conscience was clear
at last.

LeNoir stood up against his antagonist. He well knew he was about to
make the fight of his life. He had beaten men as big as Macdonald, but
he knew that his hope lay in keeping out of the enemy's reach. So he
danced around warily. Macdonald followed him slowly. LeNoir opened with
a swift and savage reach for Macdonald's neck, but failed to break the
guard and danced out again, Macdonald still pressing on him. Again
and again LeNoir rushed, but the guard was impregnable, and steadily
Macdonald advanced. That steady, relentless advance began to tell on the
Frenchman's nerves. The sweat gathered in big drops on his forehead and
ran down his face. He prepared for a supreme effort. Swiftly retreating,
he lured Macdonald to a more rapid advance, then with a yell he doubled
himself into a ball and delivered himself head, hands, and feet into
Macdonald's stomach. It is a trick that sometimes avails to break an
unsteady guard and to secure a clinch with an unwary opponent. But
Macdonald had been waiting for that trick. Stopping short, he leaned
over to one side, and stooping slightly, caught LeNoir low and tossed
him clear over his head. LeNoir fell with a terrible thud on his back,
but was on his feet again like a cat and ready for the ever-advancing
Macdonald. But though he had not been struck a single blow he knew that
he had met his master. That unbreakable guard, the smiling face with the
gleaming, unsmiling eyes, that awful unwavering advance, were too much
for him. He was pale, his breath came in quick gasps, and his eyes
showed the fear of a hunted beast. He prepared for a final effort.
Feigning a greater distress than he felt, he yielded weakly to
Macdonald's advance, then suddenly gathering his full strength he sprang
into the air and lashed out backward at that hated, smiling face. His
boot found its mark, not on Macdonald's face, but fair on his neck. The
effect was terrific. Macdonald staggered back two or three paces, but
before LeNoir could be at him, he had recovered sufficiently to maintain
his guard, and