“Bull missed it that time.”

Abe Kristin whispered his comment.  The two men beside him had nothing to add at the moment.  Their eyes were intent for the next development.

Suddenly the fair-haired giant who had missed his attack seemed to disengage himself from the under man’s desperate hold.  It was impossible to ascertain the means he employed.  But he clearly released himself and one hammer fist swung up.  It crashed sickeningly down on the upturned face, and a whistling breath escaped the emotional Abe.

“Gee!  He’s takin’ a chance!  That ain’t the play in a ‘rough and tough,’” he muttered.

“Nope.  You’re right, Abe,” Luke Gats agreed without turning.  “He’s crazy.  Gee!  It’s a chance.  But he’s maybe rattled.  Bull’s been fightin’ over an hour.”

“Here get it!” Tug Burke was pointing with a cant-hook in his excitement.  “Get it quick.  See?  He’s—­”

The man’s excitement found reflection in the whole concourse of onlookers.  There was a furious movement in the human body crushed on the ground beneath the man they called Bull.  Its knees came up under his adversary’s body with a terrific jolt.  The purpose of maiming was obvious.

“Gee!  I’m glad.”

Tug’s relief found an echo in the sigh that escaped his companions.  The intended victim had promptly swung his body clear and the threatened injury was averted.  But his retaliation was instant.  His great open hand spread over the man’s face, smothering it; and it seemed the sought-for goal had been reached.

“Gouge!  Gouge!”

The cry roared in hoarse, excited tones from every direction.  Unanimity displayed the general feeling.  The man whose face had been smothered was Arden Laval, the camp boss, the man they hated as only forest-men can hate.  The other was a giant youngster, not long a member of the camp, the usual object for victimisation by such a man as the French Canadian boss.

The demand remained unsatisfied.  The fingers remained spread out over the man’s eyes, but the foul act was never perpetrated.  The younger man’s efforts were directed towards a deeper, more significant purpose, and perhaps less cruel.  He could have blinded in a twinkling.  But he refrained.  Instead, he pressed up mightily with a fore-arm crooked under the back of the man’s neck, his smothering hand pressed down with all his enormous strength.

“The darn fool!  Why in hell don’t he—?”

Abe was interrupted by the excited voice of the man with the cant-hook.

“God A’mighty!” Tug cried.  “Do you get it?  Gouge?  It ain’t good enough fer Master Bull.  He’s playin’ bigger.  He’s playin’ fer dollars while we was reck’nin’ cents.  Look!  It’ll crack sure!  His gorl-darn neck!  He means—!”

“To kill!”

Luke Gat’s jubilation was dreadful to witness.  His hard, be-whiskered features were alight with fiendish joy.  This youngster had gone beyond all expectations.  No less than the life of the greatest bully in the lumber world would satisfy him.