Spangler and Perry, hoping to catch Matt at a disadvantage, hurled themselves at him. An instinct of fair play held Clipperton back. He turned for an instant to see what the other three members of the squad were going to do, and in that instant another momentous thing happened. Chub, hovering in the background, saw Spangler and Perry dashing toward Matt. Brass knuckle-dusters glimmered on the fingers of Perry's right fist. Chub caught the flash of the knuckle-dusters and, being too far away to place himself shoulder to shoulder with Matt, he let fly with the stone he had been holding in his hand. In his excitement Chub did not throw accurately. The stone missed Perry by a foot and struck Clipperton a grazing blow on the side of the head. Clipperton staggered back, a trickle of blood rilling over his cheek, and whirled with a fierce cry. Matt, notwithstanding the fact that Perry and Spangler claimed most of his attention, had witnessed Chub's disastrous work with the missile. Just as Clipperton whirled, Matt leaped backward and threw up his hand. This move, coming at that precious instant, gave Clipperton the impression that it was Matt who had hurled the stone. In everything that Clipperton did he was lightning-quick. The blow had aroused all the passion that lay at the depths of his nature. With the face of a demon, and with a swiftness that was wonderful, he launched himself forward as though hurled by a catapault. The impact of his body knocked Perry out of his way, and in a twinkling he and Matt were engaged, hammer and tongs. On occasion Matt could be every whit as sudden in his movements as was Clipperton. Just now his quarrel was not with Clipperton, and he hated the twist fate had given the course of events. Nevertheless Clipperton, his half-tamed nature fully aroused, demanded rough handling if Matt was to save himself. Perry, perhaps not averse to having the fight taken off his hands, ordered his team-mates to keep back. In a group the five runners watched the progress of the battle. It was the first time any of them had ever seen Clipperton cast aside all restraint and display such murderous energy. The quarter-blood was about Matt's own age, and his perfectly molded body and limbs were endued with tremendous power. But he had more power than prowess, and his fiery energy lacked the cool-headed calculation which alone could make it effective. On the other hand, Matt King had science as well as strength, and energy as well as self-possession. No matter what the pinch he was in, he could think calmly, and with a swiftness and precision which alone would have won many a battle. Chub knew that Matt had no love for a brawl; but Chub also knew that Matt tried always to play square with himself, and that if brawls came there was no dodging or side-stepping, but straight business right from the word "go." There was straight business now, and in many points it was brilliant.