The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the weapon; the calmly reasoning brain in Toppy’s head had foreseen that in that lay his advantage. It was for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had flung himself forward at the psychological moment it was enough. Reivers was bent over with his hand on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind his left ear exposed.
Toppy’s fist, swung from far behind him, struck the spot with the sound of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped as he was, rolled over and over and lay still. Toppy first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach. Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a string of foul curses on his lips.
Toppy set himself as the Snow-Burner came forward. His left lifted Reivers from his feet. Even while he was in the air, Toppy’s right followed on the jaw. The Snow-Burner wavered. Then Toppy, drawing a long breath, called into play all the strength he had been saving. He struck and struck again so rapidly that the eye could not follow, and each blow found its mark; and each was of deadly power.
He drove Reivers backward. He drove him as he willed. He beat him till he saw Reivers’ eyes grow glassy. Then he stepped back. The almost superhuman strength of Reivers had kept him on his feet until now in spite of the pitiless storm of blows. Now he swayed back and forth once. His breath came in gasps. His arms fell inert, his eyes closed slowly; and as a great tree falls—slowly at first, then with a sudden crash—the Snow-Burner toppled and fell face downward on the ground.
CHAPTER XX—TOPPY’S WAY
Toppy stood and looked down at his vanquished foe. The convulsive rise and fall of his breast as he panted for breath told how desperately and savagely he had fought. Now as he stood victorious and looked down upon the man he had conquered, the chivalry innate in him began to stir with respect and even pity for the man whom he had beaten. He looked at Reivers’ bloody face as, the head turned on one side, it lay nuzzled helplessly against the soft ground. A wave of revulsion, the aftermath of his fury, passed over him, and he drew his hand slowly across his eyes as if to shut out the sight of the havoc that his fists had wrought.
And now happened the inevitable. Toppy had not foreseen it, never had dreamed it possible. But now the men who had watched cried aloud their hatred of the big man who lay before them. The king-man, their master, was down! Upright, they would have quailed before his mere look. But now he was down! The man who had mastered them, broken them, tortured them, lay helpless there before them. The courage and hate of slaves suddenly in power over their master flamed through them. This was their chance; they had him now.
“We got him! Kill him! Come on! Finish him!” they roared, and threw themselves like a pack of wolves upon the prostrate man. Even as they rushed Reivers raised his head in returning consciousness; then he went down under a shower of heavily booted feet.
With a bellow of command Toppy flung himself forward. He knew quite well that this was what Reivers deserved; he had even at times hoped that the men some time would have the opportunity for such revenge. But now he discovered that he couldn’t stand by and see it done. It wasn’t in him. Reivers was down, fairly beaten in a hard fight. He was helpless. Toppy’s rage suddenly swerved from Reivers to the men who were trying to kick the life out of him.
“Back! Get back there, I say!” he ordered.