In an instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary.

Twenty times he had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing strength.

And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had never fought before.

Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that followed--as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken.

It was February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their horns--especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first.
This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan.