As he staggered up also, cursing fiercely, his lips drawn back in a snarl, his brutal face, that of a wild animal, I struck him again, a blow which would have ended the game, had not my foot slipped on the reeling deck.

As it was it drove him to his knees, groggy, and with one eye half closed, yet with strength enough left to regain his feet as soon as I.This time he charged me like a wild bull, froth whitening his lips, scarcely appearing human in the yellow light.

In mad rage he forgot all caution, all pretense at defense, his one thought to reach me with his hands, and throttle me into lifeless pulp.

Here was where skill and coolness won.

I fought him back, driving blow on blow through his guard, sidestepping his mad rushes, landing again and again on his body.