“Well, well; so we’re playing the wit, are we—doctor?” he sneered softly. “We’re trying to drive that trained mind of ours to be brilliant, are we? Well, I wouldn’t, Treplin; the strain on inferior machinery may be fatal.” Suddenly his whole face seemed to change, convulsed in a spasm of brute threatening. “Get over there in that corner and dig a slop-sink; you hear me?” Reivers’ voice was a snarl as he pointed to the corner near the kitchen, where a pick and shovel lay waiting. “That’s what you’re going to do, my fine buck, with your nerve to dare to come into my camp and think you’re my equal. Dig slop-holes for my Dago cook; that’s what you’re going to do!
“Do you hear? You’re going to be the lowest scavenger in this gang of scum. I’m going to break you. I’m going to keep you here until I’m through with you. I’m going to send you out of here so low down that a saloon scrub-out would kick you on general principles. That’s what’s going to happen to you! I’m going to play with you. I’m going to show you how well it pays to think of yourself as my equal in my own camp. Get over there now—right over there where the whole camp can see you, and dig a hole for the Dago to throw his slops!”
Few men could have faced the sight of the Snow-Burner’s face as the words shot from his iron-like lips without retreating, but Toppy stood still. He began to smile.
“Pardon, Reivers,” he said softly, “I never thought of myself as your equal.”
“Don’t whine now; it’s too late! Go——”
“Because I know I’m a better man than you ever could be.”
It grew very still with great suddenness there in the corner of the big yard. The men within hearing held their breaths. The drip-drip from the eaves sounded loud in the silence. And now Toppy saw the wolf-craft creeping to its own far back in Reivers’ eyes, and without moving he stood tensed for sudden, flash-like action.
“So that’s it?” said Reivers, smiling; and then he struck with serpent-tongue swiftness. And with that blow Toppy knew how desperate would be the battle; for, skilled boxer and on the alert as he was, he had time only to snap his jaw to one side far enough to save himself from certain knockout, while the iron-like fist tore the skin off his cheek as it shot past.
Reivers had not thrown his body behind the blow. He stood upright and ready. He was a little surprised that his man did not go down. Toppy, recovering like a flash, likewise was prepared. A tiny instant they faced each other. Then with simultaneous growls they hurled themselves breast to breast and the fight was on.
Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind the challenge that had flared in Reivers’ eyes. It wasn’t science; it wasn’t sense. It was the blind, primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to stop him, to force him back, to make him break ground. Breast upon breast Reivers and Toppy came together and stopped short, two bodies of equal force suddenly meeting.