"Get in, Larkin," cried a voice. "No time now for lettin' your blood freeze in your veins. I'm backin' you to win and by —— you've got to step lively."
Larkin was smiling as he got up, but the smile gave place to a look of deadly earnestness as he leaped suddenly at King in an effort to overcome him at one rush. King was still smiling as he braced himself and received the full force of Larkin's rush without yielding more than half a step. Then as Larkin bent low to get a hold, King caught him quickly about the waist and, lifting him off his feet, held him for a moment while he kicked and lurched helplessly in an effort to free himself. In another second he had Larkin on the ground with his shoulders pinned down.
The whole thing had not occupied a minute, and there was not a man in the group that did not express his surprise at the sudden and unexpected outcome of the encounter. King, on his part, felt a strange new thrill of pleasure as he got up and looked round at the men. At no time during his little set-to with Larkin had he doubted his ability to take care of himself, but the sharp action, though momentary, had exhilarated him and he was conscious of the renewed vigor that had come to him during the two days wandering in the hills.
Back in the group of men stood one big fellow, a Spaniard of powerful build and hasty temper, whom no one in the gang had ever pretended to know. There was a look in his eyes now, however, that attracted and even amused King. Someone else apparently saw that look at the same moment.
"You, Spain," came a voice. "Feelin' pretty strong? Get in there and stack up. You and Howden mate up pretty close."
"Go on—get in, Spain," came from another quarter, and at once the big Spaniard, serious and struggling to control his excitement, became the centre of interest. With a deal of urging, they finally got him to step out—not very reluctantly, it seemed, for he came towards King rather eagerly.
"I don't know, young fellow," he said seriously as he came forward. "By golly, I t'ink I lika try dat for once anyhow."
He advanced warily and tried to get his huge arms about King's body. King, however, avoided him by moving back a step at a time about the enclosure until the look of seriousness in the Spaniard's face became one of impatience, and King knew that the moment had arrived when he must close with his antagonist and fight it out. His decision had barely been made, however, when the Spaniard made a quick movement towards him and King had to leap to one side quickly to avoid the powerful arms that came out to encircle him. The movement left him slightly in the rear and to one side of his opponent, and stepping in quickly he sent his arm forward and upward, and laying his hand on the back of the Spaniard's neck brought his head down with a snap. In another ten seconds he had doubled him up and thrown him on the ground.
When the Spaniard got to his feet his black eyes were flashing angrily, and he was muttering incoherently as he looked at King. The latter, however, was smiling with such genuine good nature that at last the fire died in the black eyes and the big fellow began to smile at his own defeat.
"By golly, young fellow," he said, "I lika know dat little treek, jus' once."