of science against brute strength. Jasper Swope was a
rough-and-tumble fighter of note; he was quick, too, in spite of his
weight, and his blows were like the strokes of a sledge; but Hardy did
not attempt to stand up against him. For the first few minutes it was
more of a chase than a fight, and in that the sheepman was at his
worst, cumbered by his wet clothes and the water in his shoes. Time
and again he rushed in upon his crouching opponent, who always seemed
in the act of delivering a blow and yet at the moment only sidestepped
and danced away. The hard wet sand was ploughed and trampled with
their tracks, the records of a dozen useless plunges, when suddenly
instead of dodging Hardy stepped quickly forward, his "lily-white
hand" shot out, and Jasper Swope's head went back with a jerk.

"You son-of-a-goat!" he yelled, as the blood ran down his face, and
lowering his head he bored in upon Hardy furiously. Once more Hardy
sidestepped, but the moment his enemy turned he flew at him like a
tiger, raining blows upon his bloody face in lightning succession.

"_Huh_!" grunted the sheepman, coughing like a wood-chopper as he
struck back through the storm, and the chance blow found its mark. For
a moment Hardy staggered, clutching at his chest; but as Swope sprang
forward to finish his work he ducked and slipped aside, stumbling like
a man about to drop.

A shrill yell went up from the farther shore as Hardy stood swaying in
his tracks, and a fierce shout of warning from the bluff; but Jasper
Swope was implacable. Brushing the blood from his eyes he stepped
deliberately forward and aimed a blow that would have felled an ox,
straight at his enemy's head. It missed; the drooping head snapped
down like Judy before Punch and rose up again, truculently; then
before the sheepman could regain his balance Hardy threw his whole
strength into a fierce uppercut that laid Swope sprawling on his
back.

A howl of triumph and derision rose up from the rim of the bluff as
the burly sheepman went down, but it changed to a sudden shout of
warning as he scrambled back to his feet again. There was something
indescribably vengeful about him as he whirled upon his enemy, and his
hand went inside his torn shirt in a gesture not to be mistaken.

[Illustration: Threw the sand full in his face]

"Look out there, Rufe!" yelled Creede, leaping up from behind his rock
pile. "Run! _Jump into the river_!" But instead Hardy grabbed up a
handful of