d nearly all the clothing was torn from his body, but he
still fought against his opponents. The ring had come in closer and
closer, and now the savages uttered low cries of admiration as he sent
some one of his antagonists spinning. They admired, too, his massive
figure, the powerful neck, the white shoulders now bare and the great
muscles which bunched up as he put forth supreme efforts.

"Verily, this is a man," said the old chief, Yellow Panther.

Timmendiquas nodded, but he never took his absorbed eyes from the
contest. He, too, uttered a low cry as Henry suddenly caught one of the
warriors with his fist and sent him like a shot to the earth. But this
warrior, a Wyandot, was tough. He sprang up again, the dark blood
flowing from his face, but was caught and sent down a second time, to
lay where he had fallen, until some of the watchers took him by the legs
and dragged him out of the way of the struggle. Henry was rid of one of
his opponents for the time, and the five who were left did not dare use
their weapons in face of the command from Timmendiquas to take him
alive. Yet they rushed in as full of zeal as ever. It may be that they
enjoyed the struggle in their savage way, particularly when the prize to
be won was so splendid.

Henry's successful blow with his fist reminded him that he might use it
again. In the fury of the sudden struggle he had not thought before to
fight by this method. A savage had him by the left shoulder. He struck
the up-turned face with his right fist and the warrior went down
unconscious.

Only four now! The hands of another were seeking his throat. He tore the
hands loose, seized the warrior in his arms, and hurled him ten feet
away, where he fell with a sprained ankle. A deep cry, and following it,
a long-drawn sigh of admiration, came from the crowd.

Only three now! He tripped and threw one so heavily that he could not
renew the combat, and the terrible fist sent down the fifth. Once more
came that cry and long-drawn sigh from the multitude! A single opponent
was left, but he was a powerful fellow, a Wyandot, with long thick arms
and a mighty chest. His comrades had been much in his way in the
struggle, and, now comparatively fresh and full of confidence, he closed
with his white antagonist.

Henry had time to draw a breath or two, and he summoned his last reserve
of will and strength. He grasped the Wyandot as he ran in, pinned his
arms to his sides, tripped his feet from under