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.