uessed the reason. The muscular legs
clenched tighter the man above him, moved slowly up and down those of
his foe. With a cry of pain the Cornishman flung himself to one side and
tore loose. His trouser legs were ripped from thigh to calf and blood
streamed down the limb. The sharp rowels of Kilmeny's spurs had sunk
into the flesh and saved their owner.

Jack staggered to his feet half dazed. Peale was slowly rising, his
murderous eyes fixed on the young man. The instinct of self-preservation
sent the latter across the room to a pile of steel drills. As the two
men followed he stooped, caught up one of the heavy bars, and thrust
with a short-arm movement for Trefoyle's head. The man threw out his
hands and keeled over like a stuck pig.

Kilmeny threw away his drill and fought it out with Peale. They might
have been compared to a rapier and a two-handed broadsword. Jack was
more than a skilled boxer. He was a cool punishing fighter, one who
could give as well as take. Once Peale cornered him, bent evidently on
closing and crushing his ribs with a terrific bear hug. It would have
been worth a dozen lessons from a boxing master to see how the young man
fought him back with jabs and uppercuts long enough to duck under the
giant's arm to safety.

The wild swinging blows of the Cornishman landed heavily from time to
time, but his opponent's elbow or forearm often broke the force. The
lighter man was slippery as an eel, as hard to hit as a Corbett.
Meanwhile, he was cutting his foe to ribbons, slashing at him with swift
drives that carried the full force of one hundred seventy-five pounds,
sending home damaging blows to the body that played the mischief with
his wind. The big miner's face was a projection map with wheals for
mountains and with rivers represented by red trickles of blood.

Quartering round the room they came again to the drills. Peale, panting
and desperate, stooped for one of them. As he rose unsteadily Kilmeny
closed, threw him hard, and fell on top. Jack beat savagely the swollen
upturned face with short arm jolts until the fellow relaxed his hold
with a moan.

"Doan't 'ee kill me, mon. I've had enough," he grunted.

Kilmeny sprang to his feet, caught up the bar of steel, and poked the
prostrate man in the ribs with it.

"Get up," he ordered. "You're a pair of cowardly brutes. Can't be decent
to a couple of helpless women in your power. Can't play fair in a fight
with a man half the size of one of y