"The devil take you!" growled the maddened hunter, as he let drive a sledgehammer-like blow straight from the shoulder.
It encountered the chief fairly upon the forehead, with a force apparently sufficient to crush his skull, but it only sent him reeling back several paces, when his sinewy activity saved him from falling. With the same unhesitating promptness he charged as before.
"If that skull ain't more than six inches thick, it'll go this time," muttered Tom, as he gathered all his strength and sent out his fist like the thrust of a piston rod.
But Lone Wolf was expecting it and a quick flirt of the head to one side let the mallet go harmlessly by, while the impetus of his own blow threw Hardynge forward several steps, and narrowly escaped carrying him off his feet altogether. With an exasperating taunt the chief landed a blow upon the face of his antagonist as he shot by, and, catching him about the shoulder before he could recover, flung him to the ground with great violence, falling heavily upon him.
Had the knife of the Apache been in his hand at this juncture he would have ended the struggle in short order; but he was without the means of improving his advantage, and before he knew it he was turned from the chest of the prostrate man. And this critical moment, when the issue of the contest was very doubtful, a second figure came out from the rocks, and approached the combatants. It was that of Dick Morris, who coolly asked:
"Sha'n't I knock him on the head, Tom, and end this little row?"
"No," fairly shouted the enraged hunter, as they hammered away at each other. "If you do it, I'll knock you on the head. This is a fair and square fight in which the best man wins. If I can't knock thunder and lightning out of this redskin, let him knock it out of me. Stand back!"
"All right," replied Dick, very contentedly, walking to where the enthralled Ned Chadmund stood and asking him whether he wished to stake a little wager on the result.
The appearance of this third party ended the contest in a manner neither of the whites anticipated. The words of Tom Hardynge, declining the assistance of his friend, were understood by Lone Wolf; but, treacherous and faithless himself, he regarded them as only a part of a trap in which he was to be caught, and his whole purpose was to get out of the dilemma as quickly as possible. However hopeful he might be in a single hand-to-hand encounter with one of the men, he was not vain enough to think that he could master both. In their struggling they had approached quite close to the cliff, and Lone Wolf made a determined attempt to throw Tom over. By a little feinting and dodging, he managed to get him between himself and the edge and then began pressing him furiously.
"That's your game, is it?" exclaimed the scout. "If it is, sail in, and may the best man win."