He suddenly leaped from the tree and struck out with all the force at his command.
But Rathburn had anticipated the attack. He knocked the other’s blow aside and drove his right straight to the jaw.
“There’s a little souvenir to show you that I mean business, Percy,” he panted.
Percy came back to the attack with eyes gleaming with malice. Again he attempted to hit Rathburn, but the latter stepped aside with lightning swiftness and drove home another blow. He followed it up with a left and right and Percy sprawled his length on the grass.
After a time he sat up, dazed. Rathburn was standing over him. But although he realized fully that he was not a match for Rathburn in physical combat, and doubtless was greatly his inferior with his gun, his spirit was undaunted.
“You better finish me, or drag me in,” he gritted; “for I’ll get you, if I can. I don’t know what your play is, but you’ve acted too queer to-day for me to believe you’re on the square one way or the other.”
“You want some more, Percy?”
“My name is Lamy,” growlingly replied the other, as he rose cautiously.
“Oh, o-h. Percy Lamy.”