weapon around in a half-circle. Sparwick instantly broke through the
other's guard. Then came a volley of crashing blows.

The cause of the fight was a mystery to the boys. They looked on with a
certain show of indifference. The struggle could not well affect them or
their fortunes, no matter how it terminated.

"Bogle has no chance at all," whispered Brick. "Sparwick is as strong as
a giant."

"He knows how to wrestle, though," replied Hamp. "I shouldn't be a bit
surprised if---- Hullo! there they go."

Yes; the men were down, and Bogle was actually on top. But his triumph
was short lived. By a single twist Sparwick jammed his enemy against the
floor. Then he pinned him helplessly by the throat with one hand, while
with the other he brutally rained blow after blow on his face.

Brick and Hamp felt their blood boil with indignation. Had their arms
been free, they would have gone to the unfortunate man's rescue--rascal
though he was.

But Sparwick had no intention of doing murder. His spasm of rage spent
itself, and he let his right arm drop.

"I won't kill you, you sneakin' cur," he hissed, "though if there was
ever a traitor as desarved death it's you, Joe Bogle. I wish I had
Raikes here ter give him some o' the same medicine. You didn't count on
me bein' awake last night, but all ther same I was. I reckon I'll hev to
go shares with Raikes, since he's still got the upper hand, so to speak.
But you won't touch a cent of that money--not a red."

Bogle turned his bleeding and battered face upward. "You've done
enough, Sparwick," he whined. "Let up on me, and call it square. You
needn't be afraid of any more treachery. We'll take the boys down to the
meeting-place, and you will get your five thousand dollars."

"Not a bit of it," exclaimed Sparwick, with a harsh laugh. "I reckon I
kin take the boys there alone. An' as fur the money--why, I'm goin' ter
have a clean half, an' mebbe more. It all depends on what sort of a drop
I kin git on Raikes. Lie still, now."

He thrust his hand into Bogle's pockets, one by one. The prostrate
villain struggled hard to prevent the search. His vain pleadings changed
to bitter curses.

Sparwick was impervious to both. He went calmly on with his task. He
uttered a triumphant chuckle as he drew out the longed-for vial. He
quickly uncorked it, and poured the contents generously on his bandanna
handkerchief.

Bogle struggled and howled, all in vain. As the deadly cloth was pressed