But it came about that there was other business for Bruce than the recovery of his blankets that he had supposed would be tied to the saddle. The snow was thick between, and he was within twenty feet of the animal's body before he glimpsed it clearly again. And he felt the first wave of wonder, the first promptings of the thought that the horse he had shot down was not his, but one that he had never seen before. But there was no time for the thought to go fully home. Some one cried out--a strange, half-snarl of hatred and triumph that was almost lacking in all human quality--and a man's body leaped toward him from the thicket before which the horse had fallen. It was Simon, and Bruce had mistaken his horse for the one he had ridden. XXXIII Even in that instant crisis Bruce did not forget that he had as yet neglected to expel the empty cartridge from the barrel of his rifle and to throw in the other from the magazine. He tried to get the gun to his shoulder, working the lever at the same time. But Simon's leap was too fast for him. His strong hand seized the barrel of the gun and snatched it from his hands. Then the assailant threw it back, over his shoulder, and it fell softly in the snow. He waited, crouched. The two men stood face to face at last. All things else were forgotten. The world they had known before--a world of sorrow and pleasures, of mountains and woods and homes--faded out and left no realities except each other's presence. All about them were the snow flurries that their eyes could not penetrate, and it was as if they were two lone contestants on an otherwise uninhabited sphere who had come to grips at last. The falling snow gave the whole picture a curious tone of unreality and dimness. Bruce straightened, and his face was of iron. "Well, Simon," he said. "You've come." The man's eyes burned red through the snow. "Of course I would. Did you think you could escape me?" "It didn't much matter whether I escaped you or not," Bruce answered rather quietly. "Neither one of us is going to escape the storm and the cold. I suppose you know that." "I know that _one_ of us is. Because one of us is going out--a more direct way--first. Which one that is doesn't much matter." His great hands clasped. "Bruce, when I snatched your gun right now I could have done more. I could have sprung a few feet farther and had you around the waist--taken by surprise. The fight would have been already over. I think I could have done more than that even--with my own rifle as you came up. It's laying there, just beside the horse." But Bruce didn't turn his eyes to look at it. He was waiting for the attack. "I could have snatched your life just as well, but I wanted to wait," Simon went on. "I wanted to say a few words first, and wanted to master you--not by surprise--but by superior strength alone."