When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face had the appearance of crushed meat, but he growled through the blood and rushed again. Reivers struck, and Moir’s nose disappeared in a welter of blood and gristle. He struck again, but Moir came on and locked him in his huge arms.
Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were out. They saw their chance and leaped forward to strike at Reivers’ back. With his life depending upon it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir’s great body around, and Joey and Tammy stayed their hands barely in time to save plunging their knives into the back of their chief.
Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two stones the size of his head. One struck Joey on the shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain into the dugout; the other dropped at Reivers’ feet. With a yell he hurled Moir from him and snatched up the stone. Joey, reading his doom in the Snow-Burner’s eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck the water with a splash and was gone.
But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms licked around from behind and raised Reivers off his feet. The hold was broken as suddenly as it was clamped on. They were face to face again, and face to face they fought, trampling the sand and the fire indiscriminately. Each blow from Reivers now splashed blood from Moir’s face as from a soaked sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly:
“That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That for the dirt you did me!”
The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met the stone wall and came whining back. They cowered, jammering in fright at the terrible combat which raged, minute after minute, before them.
Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A knife, dropped by Joey or Tammy, gleamed in the light of the fire. She picked it up. With a smile of great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly toward the struggling men. They were locked in a clinch now, and with the smile widening she moved around behind Moir’s broad back. The knife flashed above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he wrenched an arm free and knocked the knife away.
“Keep away!” he roared, springing out of the clinch. “This is between Iron Hair and me.”
Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing himself Reivers had hurled Moir to one side, and Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands nearly touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when Reivers had dropped upon him. Like the stab of a snake his hand reached out and snapped it up.
“Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!” shrieked MacGregor and hurled another stone.