During the next two or three minutes the scene was as confused and incredible as a nightmare. Ralph made out a swollen body swaying on the edge of the bank, outlined against the moonlight. Rushing him, he hauled off and struck him on the jaw with a savage satisfaction in the crack of it. He made to follow up the blow, but Joe was not there. He lay in a heap at the bottom of the bank. Hearing a sound behind him, in the act of whirling around, a bludgeon aimed at Ralph's head descended on his shoulder. Seizing him who had wielded it around the body, Ralph lifted him clear of the ground and flung him after Joe. This one was Crusoe Campbell. A third figure scuttled down to the water's edge without waiting to be assisted. Ralph stood in the ashes of his fire, breathing hard, and glaring around like a lion for another adversary.
The half-breed stepped from out the shadows of the willows. "Look out, white man!" he cried boastfully. "I got it in for you! I'll fix you good!"
"Come on!" cried Ralph gladly. At the same time the curious thought shot through his brain: what could the half-breed have against him? It was not Joe Mixer's quarrel; there could be no mistaking the note of personal enmity.
The moon shone down serenely indifferent. A little prize-ring was illuminated within the encircling willows. In it the two men advanced toward each other, fists up. They crashed together. This was an adversary worthy of Ralph; he fought like a white man, and he fought fair. Shrewd blows were exchanged on either side. Each quickly learned to respect the other, and thereafter fought more warily. Failing to reach Ralph's head, the breed punished him about the body. Every one of Ralph's blows was aimed in the centre of the pale ellipse that denoted the other man's face.
Ralph had an advantage in that the breed's head was somewhat fuddled. His blows began to go wild. Ralph beat him to his knees, and stood back to let him rise. As they rushed each other again, Ralph's ankles were grasped from behind, and he was flung violently to the ground, striking his head.
As from an immense distance he heard the half-breed say: "Dam' little sneak! Wat for you do that? I want lick 'im myself!"
Then the voices receded. Ralph heard them from the beach; heard a hoarse guffaw, and afterward the splashing of paddles. He understood that they had gone.
By this time he had got to his feet. He stood, reeling from the effects of his fall, and half suffocated with a cold and deadly rage. He made his way down to the water's edge. His boat was turned upside down on the stones, and the moonlight revealed several clean slashes in her canvas bottom.
"Oh! the scum!" muttered Ralph in his rage. "Unnatural beasts without decency or manliness! Malignant, cowardly, sneaking rats!"
In cutting his boat they had not done as serious damage as they doubtless aimed to do, for Ralph carried spare pieces of canvas in his baggage, and a can of waterproof gum against emergencies. He instantly set about repairing the boat, working away in the partial darkness with the pertinacity inspired by a cold rage. He had no doubt now of what he meant to do.