Reivers had thrown off all restraint now. He fought with lowered head, and Toppy once more, as he saw the eyes watching him through the thick brows, thought of a bear. The savagery at the root of Reivers’ character was coming to the top. It was mastering, choking down his intelligence. He struck and kicked and gnashed his teeth; and curses rolled in a steady stream from his lips. One kick landed on Toppy’s thigh with a thud. “Here, bahass!” screamed a voice to Toppy, and from somewhere in the crowd an ax was pitched at his feet. Laughingly Toppy kicked the weapon to one side, and, though in deep pain from the last kick, continued fighting as if nothing had happened. The savage now dominating Reivers had seen and been caught by the sight of the flashing steel. A gleam of animal cunning showed in the depths of his ferocious eyes. To cripple, to kill, to destroy with one terrible stroke—that was his single passion. The axe opened the way. Craftily he began rushing systematically. Little by little he drove Toppy back. Closer and closer he came to the spot where the axe lay on the ground. Once more Toppy’s instinct warned him that Reivers was after a terrible coup, and once more his whole mind and body responded with extra vigilance. As he circled, presently he felt the axe under his feet and understood. He saw that Reivers was systematically working toward the weapon, though apparently unconscious of its existence. It was in Toppy’s mind to dance away, to call out to the men to remove the axe; but before he could do so something had whispered to him to hold his tongue. He continued to retreat slowly, fighting back at every inch. Now he had stepped beyond the axe. Now it lay between him and Reivers. Now it lay beneath Reivers’ feet, and now, as Reivers stooped to pick it up, Toppy, like a tiger, flung himself forward. It was what he had foreseen, what had made him hold his tongue. The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the weapon; the calmly reasoning brain in Toppy’s head had foreseen that in that lay his advantage. It was for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had flung himself forward at the psychological moment it was enough. Reivers was bent over with his hand on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind his left ear exposed. Toppy’s fist, swung from far behind him, struck the spot with the sound of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped as he was, rolled over and over and lay still. Toppy first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach. Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a string of foul curses on his lips.