She saw him get slowly to his feet, brush his trousers, blink calmly at the deputy as at some rather surprising phenomenon, and then, with the air of a man studiously intent upon some scientific process, spring upon the big man for the third time. Carmel could see the professor was not in a rage; she could see he was not frightened; she could see he was moved by cold, grim intention alone.... The deputy was unused to such proceedings. Generally when he knocked a man down that man laid quietly on his back and begged for mercy. There was no sign of begging for mercy in Evan Pell. Hitherto Jenney had used the flat of his hand as being, in his judgment, a sufficient weapon for the destruction of Evan Pell. Now, for the first time, he used his fist. The professor swarmed upon him so like a wildcat that Jenney was unable to deliver the sort of blow on the exact spot intended. The blow glanced off Evan’s skull and the young man seized Jenney’s throat with both hands. Jenney tore him loose and hurled him away. Again Pell came at him, this time to be knocked flat and bleeding. He arose slowly, swaying on his feet, to rush again. Carmel stood with gripped fists, scarcely breathing, unable to move or to speak. The sight was not pleasant. Again and again the big man knocked down the little man, but on each occasion the little man, more and more slowly, more and more blindly, got to his feet and fell upon his antagonist. He was all but blind; his legs wabbled under him, he staggered, but always he returned to his objective. That he was not rendered unconscious was amazing. He uttered no sound. His battered lips were parted and his clean, white, even teeth showed through.... The deputy was beginning to feel nonplused.... He knocked Evan down again. For an instant the young man lay still upon his back. Presently he moved, rolled upon his face, struggled to his hands and knees, and, by the power of his will, compelled himself to stand erect. He wavered. Then he took a tottering step forward and another, always toward Jenney. His head rolled, but he came on. Jenney watched him vindictively, his hands at his sides. Pell came closer, lifted his right fist as if its weight were more than his muscles could lift, and pushed it into the deputy’s face. It was not a blow, but there was the intention of a blow, unquenchable intention.... The deputy stepped back and struck again. No more was necessary. Evan Pell could not rise, though after a few seconds he tried to do so. But even then the intention which resided in him was unquenched.... On hands and knees he crawled back toward Deputy Jenney--crawled, struggled to his enemy--only to sink upon his face at the big man’s feet, motionless, powerless, unconscious. Jenney pushed him with his foot. “There,” he said, a trifle uncertainly, “I guess that’ll do fer you.... And that’s what you git every time we meet. Remember that. Every time we meet.”