“I know how to fight with a knife,” he snapped; so I didn’t say any more. Horace had become a gun-fighter, here was the Friar claimin’ to know the knife game, and if the woman had stepped out and challenged the winner to a fight with stones, why, I was so meek I wouldn’t ’a’ got het up over it.
Then Ty Jones came out of the other offset, stripped to the waist also and holdin’ his knife in his left hand. The woman had gone into the niche on our side, me an’ Olaf leaned again’ our wall, Pepper Kendal and the Chink leaned again’ the wall opposite us, The held up the lantern, and for a full minute the only sound was the wounded Cross-brander, babblin’ out his delirium back in the cave-room.
Ty was a shade beefier ’n the Friar; but his skin was dull, and the muscles didn’t cut off into the tendons so sharp, nor they didn’t seem quite so springy or well oiled; but there was half a dozen knife scars on his chest, and he had come up our way from Mexico.
They walked toward each other, Ty’s eagle eyes an’ wolf-grin tryin’ to beat down the grim set to the Friar’s face. They both crouched over an’ circled about each other like a pair o’ big cats. Ty made a few lunges, but the Friar parried ’em as simple as though it was a game, and purty soon Ty was forced to slip his knife to his right hand with the blade pointin’ up for a rip. When he did this, the Friar smiled, turned his own knife the same way; and I recalled the Friar havin’ told me about learnin’ knife tricks from an I-talian he had helped back East.
I don’t like knife fightin’, and I don’t approve of it; but I will say ’at this fight was the cleanest, quickest thing I ever saw. The Friar was the best man, but Ty was the best posted; and time and again the Friar saved himself by foot work. The follered ’em close with his lantern, while Olaf and I kept a half watch on the two opposite us.
They kept movin’ faster and faster and the’ was a continuous spattin’ as they parried with their left hands. Finally the Friar grabbed Ty by the wrist, Ty grabbed the Friar’s wrist at the same time, lowered his head, and butted the Friar in the pit o’ the stomach. It looked bad; but the Friar had raised his knee and caught Ty on the chin; so they staggered apart and breathed deep for a minute, before beginnin’ again.
The grin had left Ty’s face, and it had settled into black hate. When they began again, the Friar seized Ty’s wrist every chance he got, twistin’ it, bendin’ the arm, and tryin’ to thrust with his knife; but Ty was tough and wiry, and managed to twist out every time. At last the Friar caught Ty’s right wrist, dropped his own knife, ran his head under Ty’s right arm, caught the slack of his right pant leg, gave a heave and threw him over his head. It was a clean throw and the Friar stooped, picked up his knife and started for Ty before he had time to get to his feet. Ty rolled to his feet and dodged away as though to run, whirled, took the blade of his knife between thumb and forefinger, and spun it through the air. It struck the Friar’s collarbone, cut a gash through his shoulder, and twanged again’ the wall o’ the tunnel.
The two men eyed each other for a moment, the calm of victory in the Friar’s eyes, the red of baffled hate in Ty’s. They were about eight feet apart. “Will you give up?” asked the Friar.
“No,” sez Ty. He doubled up his fists as though to spring, then whirled and stepped into the offset behind him. In a moment, he came out with a gun in his hand.
As soon as he had said no, Pepper Kendal an’ the Chink had made a dive for the offset, and Olaf and I had made a dive for them. I got Pepper who was old and stiff, and I managed to hit him in the center o’ the forehead just as Ty came out with his gun. Olaf was havin’ trouble with the Chink, and I picked up a gun and tapped Pepper on the head with it, and then turned to knock the Chink. Just as I turned, I saw the woman walkin’ slowly down the tunnel behind the Friar, and I saw Ty bend his gun on him. Even then he had to pause a moment to enjoy his deviltry, and I still see that picture in my dreams—the Friar standin’ silent and proud, with his head thrown back and his level eyes full on Ty, while back of him stood the woman as unconcerned as a snow-bird. About six feet beyond ’em stood Promotheus holdin’ the light above his head, while his face seemed frozen with horror.