Wheeling like a flash, Paul shot out a fist before the
Frenchman could recover his guard, and struck him a smash under the ear
which sent him reeling back into his friends.

Pete Deveaux was now thoroughly alarmed. He had not expected such
science, nor such force, on the part of his opponent. He approached
Paul with much more caution, amid the howls of the natives, and decided
to let him take the offensive.

Paul was willing. Encouraged by his success thus far, and bent upon
ending the fracas as soon as possible, he met his adversary with a
heavy swing which just cleared the man's ear. Deveaux struck, but
missed also. Pressed backward, he clinched to save himself, and in
this position, where nobody could see his movements, he viciously tried
to put some short jabs into Paul's abdomen.

Fortunately for himself Paul succeeded in breaking away before he was
doubled up by the blows, one of which had landed with sufficient power
to make him utter an involuntary smothered exclamation of pain.

"No more of that, Mr. Deveaux!" warned the referee suspiciously, as
Paul shoved his opponent back. "Keep out of the clinches! Fight fair!"

"Fair! Fair!" yelled the sailors; and the natives took up the cry in
their own language.

Paul now advanced, and Pete Deveaux retreated. The latter was really
frightened. Something was beginning to tell him that in this youth of
eighteen he had met his superior.

"I think we'd better quit, Ross, before we hurt each other," suggested
the French flyer cravenly. "This flight business of ours won't stand
such delays as this. We can have this out when we land in Panama."

"No, we can't have it out in Panama!" cried Paul. "Stand up if you're
a man and settle this thing right now. Watch out; I'm coming!"

By this time Pete Deveaux had retreated to the lower end of the
improvised ring. He saw that he was cornered; that he must fight once
more. Lunging forward like a trapped rat, he struck a wicked blow for
his opponent's head.

Paul parried it, and as swift as a stroke of lightning his right hand
streaked out and caught Deveaux under the jaw. The Frenchman reeled
backward a few steps, and toppled over, full length upon the ground.
What a cry went up from the onlookers! By this time the sympathies of
every one, except Deveaux's own comrades, were with the youth. No one,
even a half-civilized savage, at heart likes a coward.

For a few moments Pete Deveaux was dazed. But after