Chapter XLVI: A Fight That Was a Fight

With a twist of his body he threw his stockinged feet forward and caught toe-holds on the rough surface of the wall. Next he released his right hand and fumbled downward till he found a solid piece of protruding rock. Having tested it thoroughly he let go his holds with both feet and left hand and dropped his full weight into the grip of his right. Above him, MacGregor, with his face glued to the brink of the opening, gasped twice, once because he was sure Reivers was dropping straight to the bottom, and again when his right hand took the shock of his full weight without loosening its grip.

Reivers heard and looked up and smiled. Then he swung his feet inward again, secured another hold, lowered his right hand to another sure grip, and so made his startling way down the inwardly slanting cliff.

At the third desperate drop MacGregor drew back, unable to stand the strain of watching. Had Reivers been able to see on top of the cliff he would have laughed, for the Scotchman was down on his knees in the snow, earnestly praying.

Finally MacGregor summoned up courage to peer down once more. Then he knew his prayers had been answered. Reivers was hanging easily by his hands, directly above the front of the large dugout, and his feet were less than ten feet above the bottom of the cave. MacGregor gave a whoop of thanksgiving and gathered to him an armful of stones.

For a moment Reivers hung there, looking down and appraising the situation. He loosened his hold until his whole weight hung on the ends of his fingers.

"Come out and fight, Shanty!" he bellowed suddenly. "Come out, you cheap cur, and fight like a man!"

Nothing loath Moir came, responding like a wild animal on the instant of the weird challenge from above. Like a wild man he came, six-shooter in hand, tearing the front of the dugout away in his rush, and Reivers dropped and struck him neatly the instant he appeared.

It was a carefully aimed drop. Landing on Moir's neck, Reivers would have killed him. He had no wish to kill him--yet. He landed on Moir's shoulders and the six-shooter went flying away as the two bodies crashed together and dropped on the sand with a thud.

Reivers was up first. It was well that he was. Tammy and Joey were only a step behind Moir. Like wildcats they clawed at Reivers and like wildcats they rolled on the ground when his fists met them. Then Moir was up on his feet. His senses were a little dull, but he saw enough of the situation to satisfy him. Before him was something to fight, to rush, to annihilate. And he rushed.

Up on the cliff the maddened MacGregor yelped joyously, a stone in each hand, as Reivers leaped forward to meet the rush and struck. Shanty Moir had expected a grapple, and Reivers' fist caught him full in the mouth and threw him back on his shoulders a man's length away.

When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face had the appearance of crushed meat, but he growled through the blood and rushed again. Reivers struck, and Moir's nose disappeared in a welter of blood and gristle. He struck again, but Moir came on and locked him in his huge arms.

Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were out. They saw their chance and leaped forward to strike at Reivers' back. With his life depending upon it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir's great body around, and Joey and Tammy stayed their hands barely in time to save plunging their knives into the back of their chief.

Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two stones the size of his head. One struck Joey on the shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain into the dugout; the other dropped at Reivers' feet. With a yell he hurled Moir from him and snatched up the stone. Joey, reading his doom in the Snow-Burner's eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck the water with a splash and was gone.

But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms licked around from behind and raised Reivers off his feet. The hold was broken as suddenly as it was clamped on. They were face to face again, and face to face they fought, trampling the sand and the fire indiscriminately. Each blow from Reivers now splashed blood from Moir's face as from a soaked sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly:

"That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That for the dirt you did me!"

The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met the stone wall and came whining back. They cowered, jammering in fright at the terrible combat which raged, minute after minute, before them.

Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A knife, dropped by Joey or Tammy, gleamed in the light of the fire. She picked it up. With a smile of great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly toward the struggling men. They were locked in a clinch now, and with the smile widening she moved around behind Moir's broad back. The knife flashed above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he wrenched an arm free and knocked the knife away.

"Keep away!" he roared, springing out of the clinch. "This is between Iron Hair and me."

Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing himself Reivers had hurled Moir to one side, and Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands nearly touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when Reivers had dropped upon him. Like the stab of a snake his hand reached out and snapped it up.

"Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!" shrieked MacGregor and hurled another stone.

His aim was true this time. The stone struck Moir squarely on his big head and drove his face into the sand. He never moved after it.

Reivers looked up. On the brink of the cliff MacGregor on his knees was chanting his war-cry, his thanks that vengeance had not been denied him. Reivers smiled.

"That's a good song, Mac, whatever it is!" he laughed, when the maddened Scotchman had grown quieter. "But the fact remains that you disobeyed my orders and interfered."

"Aye! I interfered. I hurled a stone and sent the black soul of Shanty Moir back to his brother the devil!" chanted MacGregor. "But, lad, I did not interfere until you'd paid him in full--until you'd paid double--for the kick he gave you. Three of them there were, and they were armed and you with bare fists! God's blood! Never since men stood up with fist to fist has there been such fighting. One disabled, and two men dead! Dead you are, you poor pups! And I can tell by the way you lived where you're roasting now.

"Ah, ah! I ha' seen a man fight; I ha' seen what I shall never forget, and, poor stick that I am compared to him, I ha' e'en had a hand in it myself. Man, man! Would you grudge me a little bite after your belly's full of battle?"

Reivers spoke quietly and coldly.

"Go down and tear out as much of the stone wall as you can. I'll take the heavy stones from this side." He turned to Tillie. "Take the big belt from Iron Hair and give it to me. Then make all ready for the trail. We march to-night."

And Tillie, as she harnessed the dogs, spat upon Iron Hair, the beaten.