His enormous size and great reach gave him a decided advantage in one way but it was partially offset by Scott’s skill and coolness. If he should succeed in landing one of his terrific but wild swings or in grappling his opponent the fight could have but one ending. Scott’s only chance was to keep out of his reach and hammer him into submission. Foster fought with all the wild fury of a madman; Scott, with the coolness of a boxing master.
Again and again Scott landed blows which would have felled a smaller man. Some of them staggered this giant a little but most of them seemed to have no effect at all. Scott was handicapped by the necessity of keeping entirely out of his reach. A grazing blow on the side of his head warned him that if one of them should land squarely he would be done for.
In attempting to avoid one of Foster’s mad rushes Scott stepped off the edge of the porch and fell on his back on the ground. Instantly Foster jumped for his head with both hobnailed boots. For the fraction of a second Scott, stunned by the fall, saw this demon hovering over him, and the sight almost sickened him. But he recovered just in time to roll suddenly over out of reach and spring to his feet. Foster, dazed by the escape of his victim, tripped and fell. Scott could have jumped on the lumbering giant there on the ground but he had been taught to play the game fair. Moreover, he did not want this man to have any excuse. He wanted to thrash him as he had never been thrashed before and make him acknowledge it.
The men from both stores had edged up to the fence and almost forgotten the dead line in their excitement.
Scott let the giant scramble to his feet unmolested, and paid dear for his chivalry. He had counted on this man’s dissipation sapping his endurance. It was beginning to tell on him. His breath was coming in great choking gasps but his mountain training had made him tough. Moreover, he realized that his strength was waning, and with that knowledge his blind fury gave way to craft.
Scott had always boxed according to the rules of the ring, and he was taken entirely off his guard when Foster suddenly sprang some lumberjack tactics and landed his hobnailed boot squarely in his stomach. For a second everything turned black before him and he staggered like a drunken man. As in a haze he saw the giant spring forward to finish him off. With the instinct of the fighter, he side-stepped and the instant’s reprieve brought back his wandering senses and his wind.
When he saw the slight effect of his blows earlier in the fight he had devoted himself almost entirely to defense and saved his strength till Foster should be tired out. Now he took the offensive with all his power. He rained blow after blow on the gasping giant with bewildering rapidity and finally, seeing the man was almost exhausted, he threw every ounce of strength into a blow square on the point of his chin.
The big fellow staggered an instant and sank limply in a lifeless heap. Scott leaned panting against the fence. He was almost exhausted. Foster moved uneasily and raised himself groaning on one elbow.
“Are you through training me to come when you call?” Scott asked between his gasps for breath.
Foster rose slowly and wobbled towards the gate without a word. Not a word of sympathy came from his friends and they watched him clamber painfully on to his horse without offering any assistance. He rode slowly down the village street with drooping head, a thoroughly beaten man.