d with rage he could not see to land his blows. To this end he
kept up a running fire of taunts.

"I shan't have to knock you out, Blow-Hard. You're doing for yourself
nicely. Come on over here. Pretty slow! Pretty slow! Who was your
dancing teacher, Joe? You're getting white around the lips now. Bum
heart. You won't last long!"

Between rounds little Musq'oosis, watching all that Mattison did, did
likewise for his principal.

Finally the spectators began to grow impatient with too much footwork.
They required a little blood to keep up their zest. Sam was blamed.

"Collide! Collide!" they yelled. "Is this a marathon or hare and
hounds? Corner him, Joe! Smash him! Stand, you cook, and take your
punishment!"

Big Jack fixed the last speaker with a scowl.

"What do you want--a murder?" he growled.

The referee's sympathies were clearly veering to Sam's corner. Big
Jack, whatever his shortcomings, was a good sport, and Joe was showing
a disposition to fight foul. Jack watched him closely in the clinches.
Joe was beginning to seek clinches to save his wind. Jack, in parting
them, received a sly blow meant for Sam.

Like a flash, Jack's own experienced right jabbed Joe's stomach,
sending him reeling back into his corner. The spectators howled in
divided feelings. Jack, however, controlled the situation with a look.

In the fourth round Joe turned sullen and refused to force the
fighting any longer. He stood in front of his corner, stooping his
shoulders and swinging his head like a gorilla. Such blows as Sam had
been able to land had all been addressed to Joe's right eye. His
beauty was not thereby improved.

Now he stood, deaf alike to Sam's taunts and to the urgings of his own
supporters. Sam, dancing in front of him, feinting and retreating,
could not draw a blow. Strategy was working in Joe's dull brain. He
dropped his arms.

Instantly Sam ran in with another blow on the damaged eye.
Over-confidence betrayed him. Joe's right was waiting. The slender
figure was lifted clean from the floor by the impact. He crashed down
in a heap and, rolling over, lay on his face, twitching.

A roar broke from the spectators. That was what they wanted.

Bela ran out from her corner, distracted. Musq'oosis intercepted her.

"No place for girl," he said sternly. "Go back."

"He's dead! He's dead!" she cried wildly.

"Fool! Only got wind knocked out!" He thrust her back to her place by
the door.

Big Jack was stooping ov