A dull flush spread quickly under the tan of Scott’s face as he slowly dismounted. He stepped coolly up beside the other’s horse. His eye was riveted on the other man’s face and when he spoke his quiet voice was as cold as steel.
“Are you man enough to get off that horse or shall I pull you off?” he asked steadily.
The other man started as though astonished at the question but sprang lightly from his saddle and stood calmly facing Scott. He was a magnificent specimen, two inches taller than Scott, superbly built, clean cut and a skin that vouched for a well-lived life. Scott did not know that this man was the local idol of the Service men but his practiced eye told him that he had drawn no mean antagonist and he involuntarily sized him up as he talked.
“I came over here,” Scott explained coolly, “a stranger to you. I wanted some information. I asked you a civil question, and you answered by accusing me of graft. Your accusation is a lie. Now you can either apologize to me or fight it out.”
The man hesitated an instant as though in doubt and then said tersely, “Put ’em up.”
They were both on guard in an instant and these two men who had not known of each other’s existence five minutes before were fighting like wild men, because of a little misplaced sarcasm.
Scott had superior skill but it was largely offset by the other man’s longer reach. They were both in splendid physical condition. Scott was at one disadvantage; he had not been in the mountains long enough to become accustomed to the high altitudes and he breathed with difficulty. He let the other man take the offensive and saved his wind. He received two or three ugly blows from the other’s long reach when he thought he was safely out of range, but he was used to punishment and they did not shake him. The other man was not used to such stubborn opposition; he had been undisputed champion of the district too long, and his failure to beat down the other’s guard angered him. He saw that Scott’s breath was coming hard and he thought to rush him off his feet. He began to swing wildly.
That was just what Scott had been waiting for. When one man loses his temper and the other stays cool the result is a foregone conclusion. Sidestepping a swing that was a little wilder than the others he landed squarely on his opponent’s chin with all the weight of his heavy shoulders right behind the blow. The other man’s head snapped back with a motion like that of a mechanical toy and he crumpled down into a helpless heap.
It was a mighty blow that no man could have stood up under, but an outdoor man is hard to kill, and the fellow jumped to his feet almost instantly, dazed, but showing a frank smile of admiration.
“Now,” thought Scott, “I’ll have to look out for him. As long as he stayed mad I knew that I had him, barring accidents, but when a man smiles, look out.”