ed the battle was for life or death. For
a moment they remained upright, clutching, parrying for an advantage;
then, locked each with each, they went to the ground. Beneath and about
them the fresh snow flew, filling their eyes, their mouths. Squirming,
straining, over and over they rolled; first the beardless man on top,
then the bearded. The sound of their straining breath was continuous,
the ripping of coarse cloth an occasional interruption; but from the
first, a spectator could not but have foreseen the end. The elder man
was fighting in self-defence: the younger, he of the massive protruding
jaw--a jaw now so prominent as to be a positive disfigurement--in
unappeasable ferocity. Against him in that hour a very giant could not
have held his own. Merely a glimpse of his face inspired terror. Again
and again as they struggled his hand had clutched at the other's throat,
but only to have his hold broken. At last, however, his adversary was
weakening under the strain. Blind terror began to grip Tom Blair. At
first a mere suggestion, then a horrible certainty, possessed him as to
the identity of the relentless being who opposed him. Again the other's
hand, like the creeping tentacle of an octopus, sought his throat, would
not be stayed. He struggled with all his might against it, until it
seemed the blood-vessels of his neck would burst, but still the hold
tightened. He clutched at the long fingers desperately, bit at them,
felt his breath coming hard. Freeing his own hand, he smashed with his
fist again and again into that long thin face so near his own, knew that
another tentacle had joined with the first, felt the impossibility of
drawing air into his lungs, realized that consciousness was deserting
him, saw the sun over him like a mocking face--then knew no more.

CHAPTER XV

IN THE GRIP OF THE LAW

How long Tom Blair was unconscious he did not know. When he awoke he
could scarcely believe his own senses; and he looked about him dazedly.
The sun was shining down as brightly as before. The snow was as white.
He had for some reason been spared, after all, and hope arose in his
breast. He began to look around him. Not two rods away, his face clearly
in sight, his eyes closed, dead asleep, lay the figure of the man who
had waylaid him. For a moment he looked at the figure steadily; then, in
distinct animal cunning, the lids of the close-set eyes tightened.
Stealthily, almost holding his breath, he started to r