Jesse while holding his antagonist down, had pinioned both arms to the ground and with hands in the redskin's hair, was beating his head against the rocks, with an impact that might have been heard for many rods around.
He hoped to wear out his antagonist in this way. Both men's knives had now been lost beyond recovery, and nothing but pure muscular prowess could decide the equal battle.
All at once Jesse sensed that some one was approaching him from the rear, but whether friend or foe, he could not tell, for all behind him was in a deep shadow now.
His guns were still in their holsters, but the sudden strain that the desperado put upon himself to draw them, was futile. The Indian's grasp of iron could not be broken for the infinitesimal space of time that was necessary to give Jesse an opportunity to jerk his "Colts" from their resting place.
With a mighty effort he twisted his antagonist about so that he could partially look behind him.
The discovery that he made was enough to shake the stoutest nerves.
Over him towered the savage, malignant face of a giant Indian.
He held in his hands a club which was descending on Jesse's head with fearful force.
Like a flash the outlaw dodged and the blow fell upon Great Bear's arm, crushing it, and bringing from the warrior a groan of agony.