Chapter XIX: The Fight

It was past sunrise now; the mugginess in the air had fled before the unclouded sun, and the day was pleasantly bright and warm. The sunlight coming in through the eastern window flooded the room. Outside could be heard the steady drip-drip from the melting icicles, and the chirp of the chickadees industriously seeking a breakfast around the door made the morning cheery.

Toppy sat heaved forward in his chair after Campbell had gone on his errand, and looked out of the open door, and waited. From where he sat he could see the office across the way. Presently he saw Miss Pearson come out, stand for a moment in the doorway peering around in puzzled fashion, and go in again.

Toppy did not move. He knew what that signified--that the girl was puzzled and perhaps frightened over the absence of the squaw, Tilly; but he had no impulse to cross the street and break the news to her. The girl, Tilly's absence, such things were to him only incidentals now. He saw the girl as if far away, as if she were something that did not greatly concern him.

Through his mind there ran recollections of other moments like this--moments of waiting in the training-quarters back at school for the word of the coach to trot out on the field. The same ease of spirit after the tension of weeks of hard training; the same sinking of all worry and nervousness in the knowledge that now that the test was on he would do the best that was in him, and that beyond this there was nothing for a man to think or worry about.

Back there at school there had also been that sense of dissociation from all things not involved in the contest before him. The roaring stands, the pretty girls waving the bright-hued banners, the sound of his name shouted far down the field--he had heard them, but they had not affected him. For the time being, then as now, he had become a wonderful human machine, completely concentrated, as machines must be, upon the accomplishment of one task. Then it had been to play a game; now it was to fight. But it was much the same, after all; it was all in the man-game.

A feeling of content was the only emotion that Toppy was conscious of in the long minutes during which he waited for Campbell to return. The drip-drip from the eaves and the chirp of the chickadees came as music to his ears. The Snow-Burner and he were going to fight; in that knowledge there was relief after the weeks of tension.

Heavy, crunching steps sounded on the snow outside, and Campbell's broad shoulders filled the doorway. Toppy bent over and carefully tightened a shoe-lace.

"It's all set," said Campbell rapidly. "He says send you to him at once. You're in luck. He's in the stockade. Get you up and go to him. There is only one guard at the gate. I'll follow and be handy in case he should interfere."

That was all. Toppy rose up and strode out without a word. He made his way to the stockade gate with a carelessness of manner that belied his purpose. He noted that the guard stood on the outside of the gate and that the snow already was squashy underfoot. The gate opened and admitted him and closed behind him. Then he was walking across the yard toward Reivers, who stood waiting before the camp kitchen at the far end of the yard.

Here and there Toppy saw men in the bunkhouses, perhaps fifty in all, and realised that the sudden thaw had at once enforced a period of idleness for some of the men. He nodded lightly in response to the greeting from one of the men whom he had doctored; then he was standing before Reivers, and Reivers was looking at him as he had looked at Rosky the day when he broke the Bohunk's leg. Toppy looked back, unmoved. For a moment the two stood silent, eye measuring eye. Then Reivers spoke savagely, enraged at finding a will that braved his own.

"What kind of a game are you trying to play, Treplin?"

"Game?" repeated Toppy innocently.

"Come, come!" Reivers' brows were drawing down over his eyes, and again Toppy for some reason was reminded of a bear. "You don't suppose I'm as innocent as Campbell, do you? You've been raising ---- in the shop, I hear. You're doing that with an object. You're trying some game. I don't care what it is; it doesn't go. There doesn't anybody try any games in this place except myself."

"How about poker-games?" suggested Toppy quietly.

A man hidden in the darkness of the bunkhouse behind Reivers snickered audibly; for Campbell had told the story of how Toppy had bested the boss at poker and the man understood Toppy's thrust. Reivers' eyes flashed and his jaw shot out, but in an instant he had his anger under control again. He smiled.

"Well, well; so we're playing the wit, are we--doctor?" he sneered softly. "We're trying to drive that trained mind of ours to be brilliant, are we? Well, I wouldn't, Treplin; the strain on inferior machinery may be fatal." Suddenly his whole face seemed to change, convulsed in a spasm of brute threatening. "Get over there in that corner and dig a slop-sink; you hear me?" Reivers' voice was a snarl as he pointed to the corner near the kitchen, where a pick and shovel lay waiting. "That's what you're going to do, my fine buck, with your nerve to dare to come into my camp and think you're my equal. Dig slop-holes for my Dago cook; that's what you're going to do!

"Do you hear? You're going to be the lowest scavenger in this gang of scum. I'm going to break you. I'm going to keep you here until I'm through with you. I'm going to send you out of here so low down that a saloon scrub-out would kick you on general principles. That's what's going to happen to you! I'm going to play with you. I'm going to show you how well it pays to think of yourself as my equal in my own camp. Get over there now--right over there where the whole camp can see you, and dig a hole for the Dago to throw his slops!"

Few men could have faced the sight of the Snow-Burner's face as the words shot from his iron-like lips without retreating, but Toppy stood still. He began to smile.

"Pardon, Reivers," he said softly, "I never thought of myself as your equal."

"Don't whine now; it's too late! Go----"

"Because I know I'm a better man than you ever could be."

It grew very still with great suddenness there in the corner of the big yard. The men within hearing held their breaths. The drip-drip from the eaves sounded loud in the silence. And now Toppy saw the wolf-craft creeping to its own far back in Reivers' eyes, and without moving he stood tensed for sudden, flash-like action.

"So that's it?" said Reivers, smiling; and then he struck with serpent-tongue swiftness. And with that blow Toppy knew how desperate would be the battle; for, skilled boxer and on the alert as he was, he had time only to snap his jaw to one side far enough to save himself from certain knockout, while the iron-like fist tore the skin off his cheek as it shot past.

Reivers had not thrown his body behind the blow. He stood upright and ready. He was a little surprised that his man did not go down. Toppy, recovering like a flash, likewise was prepared. A tiny instant they faced each other. Then with simultaneous growls they hurled themselves breast to breast and the fight was on.

Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind the challenge that had flared in Reivers' eyes. It wasn't science; it wasn't sense. It was the blind, primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to stop him, to force him back, to make him break ground. Breast upon breast Reivers and Toppy came together and stopped short, two bodies of equal force suddenly meeting.

Neither gave ground; neither made a pretense at guarding. Toe to toe they stood, head to head, and drove their fists against one another's iron-strong bodies with a rapidity and a force that only giants like themselves could have withstood for a moment. It was madness, it was murder, and the group of men who were watching held their breaths and waited for one or the other to wilt and go down, the life knocked out of him by those pile-driver blows.

Then, as suddenly as they had come together, the pair leaped apart, rushed together again, gripped into a clinch, struggled in Titan fashion with futile heaving and tripping, flew apart once more, then volleyed each other with vicious punches--a kaleidoscope of springing legs, rushing bodies, and stiffly driven arms.

It was a battle that drove the fear of Reivers from the heart of the men who witnessed and dragged them forth to form a ring around the two fighters. It was a battle to make men roar with frenzy; but not a sound came from the ring that expanded and closed as the battle raged here and there. The men were at first too shocked to cry out at the sight of any one daring to give the Snow-Burner fight; and after the shock had worn away they were too wary to give a sign that might bring the guards. Silently and tight-lipped the ring formed; and each pair of eyes that watched shot nothing but hatred for Reivers.

Toppy was the first to recover from the initial frensied impulse to strive to annihilate in one rush his hated enemy. He shook his head as he was wont to do after a hard scrimmage on the gridiron, and his fighting-wits were clear again. So far he knew he had held his own, but only held it. Perhaps he out-bulked Reivers slightly in body and was a trifle quicker on his feet, but Reivers' blows were enough heavier than his to even up this advantage.

He had driven his fist flush home on his foreman's neck under the ear, and the neck had not yielded any more than a column of wood. He had felt Reivers' fist drive home full on his cheekbone and it seemed that he had been struck by a handful of iron. When they had strained breast against breast in the first clash the fact that they were of equal strength had been apparent to both. Equally matched, and both equally determined to win, Toppy knew that the fight would be long; and he began to circle scientifically, striking and guarding with all his cunning, saving himself while he watched for a slip or an opening that might offer an advantage.

Suddenly the opening came, as Reivers for a second paused, deceived by Toppy's tactics. Like a bullet to the mark Toppy's right shot home on the exposed chin; but Reivers, felled to his knees as if shot, was up like a flash, staggering Toppy with a left on the mouth and rushing him around and around in fury at the knockdown. An added grimness to Toppy's expression told how he appreciated the significance of this incident. He had put all his force, from toes to knuckles, into that blow; and Reivers had merely been staggered. Again Toppy began circling, deliberately saving himself for a drawn-out battle which now to him seemed uphill.

The ring of watchers around the pair grew more close, more eager. All of the men present in the bunkhouses had rushed out to see the fight. As Toppy circled he saw in the foremost ranks the Torta boys and most of the gang that had worked under him in the quarry; and by the looks in their eyes he knew that he was fighting in the presence of friends. In the next second their looks had turned to dismay as Reivers, swiftly feinting with his left, drove home the right against Toppy's jaw and knocked him to his haunches. But Toppy, rising slowly, caught Reivers as he closed in to follow up his advantage and with a heavy swing to the eye stopped him in his tracks. A low cry escaped the tight lips around the ring. The blood was spurting from a clean cut in Reivers' brow and a few men called--

"First blood!"

Then Toppy spat out the blood he had held in after Reivers' blow. The feel of the blood running down his face turned Reivers to a fury. He rushed with an impetuosity which nothing could withstand, his fists playing a tattoo on Toppy's head and body. Like a tiger Toppy fought back; but Reivers' rage for the moment had given him added strength. He fought as a man who intends to end a fight in a hurry; he rushed and struck with power to annihilate with one blow, and rushed and struck again.

Toppy was pressed back. A groan came from the crowd as they saw him stagger from a blow on the jaw and saw Reivers set himself for one last desperate effort. Reivers rushed, his face the face of a demon, his left ripping up for the body, his right looping overhand in a killing swing at the head; and then the crowd gasped, for Toppy, with his superior quickness of foot, side-stepped and as Reivers plunged past dealt him a left in the mouth that flung him half around and sent him staggering against the outheld hands of the crowd.

When Reivers turned around now he was bleeding from the mouth also, and in his eyes was a look of caution that Toppy had never seen there before.

The fight now became as dogged as it was furious. Each man had tried to end it with a single and, failing, knew that he must wear his opponent down. Neither had been seriously damaged by the blows struck and neither was in the least tired. The thud of blow followed blow. Back and forth the pair shuffled, first one driving the other with volleys of punches, then his antagonist suddenly turning the tables.

Toppy, feeling that he was fighting an uphill fight, saved himself more than Reivers. The latter, who felt himself the master, became more and more enraged as Toppy continued to stand up before him and give him back as good as he gave. Each time that Toppy reached face or body with a solid blow the savage fury flared in Reivers' eyes, and he lunged forward like a maddened bull. Always, however, he recovered himself and resumed the fight with brains as well as brawn.

Toppy never lost his head after the first wild spasm. He realised that they were so evenly matched that the loser would lose by a slip of the mind by letting some weak spot in his character master him; and he held himself in with an iron will. Reivers' blows goaded and tempted him to rush in madly, but he held back. The men about the ring thought he was losing, and their voices rose in growled encouragement.

Toppy was not losing. As he saw Reivers become more and more furious his hopes began to rise. At each opportunity he reached Reivers' face, cutting open his other eye, bringing the blood from his nose, stinging him into added furies. Toppy was knocked down several times in the rushes that invariably followed such blows, but each time he recovered himself before Reivers could rush upon him. Suddenly his fighting-instinct telegraphed him that Reivers was about to try something new. He drew back a little, Reivers following closely. Suddenly it came. Without warning Reivers kicked. The blow took Toppy in the groin and he stumbled backward from its force. A cry of rage went up from the watching men. But Toppy sprung erect in an instant.

"All right!" he called. "It didn't hurt me. Shut up, you fools."

Thanks to his training, his hard muscles had turned the kick and saved him from being disabled.

"What's the matter, Reivers?" he taunted as he circled carefully. "Losing confidence in your fists? Got to use your feet, eh? Lost your kick, too, haven't you? Well, well! Then you certainly are in for a fine trimming!"

Again Reivers kicked, this time aiming low at the shin-bone; but Toppy avoided it easily and danced back with a laugh.

"Can't even land it any more!" Treplin chuckled. "Show us some more tricks, Reivers!"

Reivers had thrown off all restraint now. He fought with lowered head, and Toppy once more, as he saw the eyes watching him through the thick brows, thought of a bear. The savagery at the root of Reivers' character was coming to the top. It was mastering, choking down his intelligence. He struck and kicked and gnashed his teeth; and curses rolled in a steady stream from his lips. One kick landed on Toppy's thigh with a thud.

"Here, bahass!" screamed a voice to Toppy, and from somewhere in the crowd an ax was pitched at his feet.

Laughingly Toppy kicked the weapon to one side, and, though in deep pain from the last kick, continued fighting as if nothing had happened.

The savage now dominating Reivers had seen and been caught by the sight of the flashing steel. A gleam of animal cunning showed in the depths of his ferocious eyes. To cripple, to kill, to destroy with one terrible stroke--that was his single passion. The axe opened the way.

Craftily he began rushing systematically. Little by little he drove Toppy back. Closer and closer he came to the spot where the axe lay on the ground. Once more Toppy's instinct warned him that Reivers was after a terrible coup, and once more his whole mind and body responded with extra vigilance.

As he circled, presently he felt the axe under his feet and understood. He saw that Reivers was systematically working toward the weapon, though apparently unconscious of its existence.

It was in Toppy's mind to dance away, to call out to the men to remove the axe; but before he could do so something had whispered to him to hold his tongue. He continued to retreat slowly, fighting back at every inch.

Now he had stepped beyond the axe.

Now it lay between him and Reivers.

Now it lay beneath Reivers' feet, and now, as Reivers stooped to pick it up, Toppy, like a tiger, flung himself forward. It was what he had foreseen, what had made him hold his tongue.

The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the weapon; the calmly reasoning brain in Toppy's head had foreseen that in that lay his advantage. It was for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had flung himself forward at the psychological moment it was enough. Reivers was bent over with his hand on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind his left ear exposed.

Toppy's fist, swung from far behind him, struck the spot with the sound of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped as he was, rolled over and over and lay still. Toppy first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach. Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a string of foul curses on his lips.

Toppy set himself as the Snow-Burner came forward. His left lifted Reivers from his feet. Even while he was in the air, Toppy's right followed on the jaw. The Snow-Burner wavered. Then Toppy, drawing a long breath, called into play all the strength he had been saving. He struck and struck again so rapidly that the eye could not follow, and each blow found its mark; and each was of deadly power.

He drove Reivers backward. He drove him as he willed. He beat him till he saw Reivers' eyes grow glassy. Then he stepped back. The almost superhuman strength of Reivers had kept him on his feet until now in spite of the pitiless storm of blows. Now he swayed back and forth once. His breath came in gasps. His arms fell inert, his eyes closed slowly; and as a great tree falls--slowly at first, then with a sudden crash--the Snow-Burner toppled and fell face downward on the ground.