The men hesitated, then slowly fell back. They saw that the boy meant exactly what he had said.
"This is going to be a fair fight, and somebody is going to get good and properly pounded. There won't be any foul tactics as long as I've got a grip on this revolver," Jarvis warned the crowd.
The combatants were at each other with a rush. Once more they clinched. The two desperate men swayed from side to side, neither seeming to be able to obtain advantage over the other.
Suddenly the Icelander's arms seemed to relax. He pushed his adversary from him, then with all the force in his powerful body, he concentrated on a swift blow.
The blow smote the labor leader on the side of the jaw.
Cavard struck the floor with terrific force.
With an animal-like roar the Icelander threw himself upon the prostrate body of his antagonist. Olsen, in his terrible rage, had lost all control of himself. He was slow to anger, but when once aroused he was a wild animal.
Gripping the other man's shoulders, he banged him on the hard floor with crushing force. All at once the big, powerful fingers of the Icelander encircled the neck of the labor leader. A look of triumph shone in Olsen's eyes.
"Segunder!"
It was Bob Jarvis who spoke.