Bounding to their feet, the combatants went at it again hammer and tongs; and, though they were mere lads, it is doubtful if the spectators ever had witnessed a more scientific battle with fists. The lads were side-stepping and dancing in their stocking feet, not heeding the sharp pieces of rock and ore that cut into their feet, drawing the blood at almost every step. They had battled steadily for over ten minutes. The face of each was covered with blood and it was with difficulty that the lads were able to see at all. They had barely one set of good eyes between them. Jarvis was getting more and more desperate. Try as he might his superior strength was not equal to the task of putting Steve Rush down and out. For every blow delivered Bob got a return that he felt all over his body from his head to his feet. At last Bob thought he saw an opening to deliver a knock-out blow. He let go with all his strength. The blow struck nothing more substantial than thin air. Then, like a bolt of lightning, the fist of Steve Rush shot out, catching Jarvis under the nose, lifting the larger boy from his feet, sending him crashing against the shore wall of the drift. "That settles him," shouted the spectators. "My, what a wallop! That would have knocked down one of the mules in number seven level. I'll bet he doesn't wake up in----" Bob Jarvis was already awake. Despite the terrific blow under which he had gone down he was quickly on his feet. It was observed that he staggered a little. Both boys were beginning to show their weariness, though Jarvis exhibited more of this than did Steve. "Call it a draw, lads," yelled the miners. "Not till I give him back for that last one," roared Bob, making a vicious lunge at his companion. The blow barely grazed the left cheek of the smaller of the lads, he having moved his head slightly to one side to avoid the blow. "I'll hand it out to you, Bob," said Steve. Once more Jarvis was lifted from his feet and this time he was laid on his back on the ground, while Steve leaned against the wall of the drift, panting heavily. "Call it off! Call it off, or we'll take a hand in the game," warned the miners. Jarvis had staggered to his feet and Rush was lurching to meet him. There was a slow exchange of blows and the lads clinched, each with an arm about the other's neck. For a full minute they stood thus, panting, striving to collect their strength to continue the battle. Jarvis made a feeble effort to deliver a right-hand hook on his opponent's jaw, but there was not enough steam in the blow to do any damage. Steve retaliated with a vicious punch in the pit of Jarvis' stomach--a blow that made the larger boy grunt and cling heavily to the neck of his adversary. "Have you got enough?" breathed Steve. "No!" Bob managed to land a fairly strong blow on Steve's neck.