Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind the challenge that had flared in Reivers’ eyes. It wasn’t science; it wasn’t sense. It was the blind, primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to stop him, to force him back, to make him break ground. Breast upon breast Reivers and Toppy came together and stopped short, two bodies of equal force suddenly meeting. Neither gave ground; neither made a pretense at guarding. Toe to toe they stood, head to head, and drove their fists against one another’s iron-strong bodies with a rapidity and a force that only giants like themselves could have withstood for a moment. It was madness, it was murder, and the group of men who were watching held their breaths and waited for one or the other to wilt and go down, the life knocked out of him by those pile-driver blows. Then, as suddenly as they had come together, the pair leaped apart, rushed together again, gripped into a clinch, struggled in Titan fashion with futile heaving and tripping, flew apart once more, then volleyed each other with vicious punches—a kaleidoscope of springing legs, rushing bodies, and stiffly driven arms. It was a battle that drove the fear of Reivers from the heart of the men who witnessed and dragged them forth to form a ring around the two fighters. It was a battle to make men roar with frenzy; but not a sound came from the ring that expanded and closed as the battle raged here and there. The men were at first too shocked to cry out at the sight of any one daring to give the Snow-Burner fight; and after the shock had worn away they were too wary to give a sign that might bring the guards. Silently and tight-lipped the ring formed; and each pair of eyes that watched shot nothing but hatred for Reivers. Toppy was the first to recover from the initial frensied impulse to strive to annihilate in one rush his hated enemy. He shook his head as he was wont to do after a hard scrimmage on the gridiron, and his fighting-wits were clear again. So far he knew he had held his own, but only held it. Perhaps he out-bulked Reivers slightly in body and was a trifle quicker on his feet, but Reivers’ blows were enough heavier than his to even up this advantage. He had driven his fist flush home on his foreman’s neck under the ear, and the neck had not yielded any more than a column of wood. He had felt Reivers’ fist drive home full on his cheekbone and it seemed that he had been struck by a handful of iron. When they had strained breast against breast in the first clash the fact that they were of equal strength had been apparent to both. Equally matched, and both equally determined to win, Toppy knew that the fight would be long; and he began to circle scientifically, striking and guarding with all his cunning, saving himself while he watched for a slip or an opening that might offer an advantage.