The other threw aside his rifle, but made no reply. Tom Clifton saw a pair of long arms outstretched; muscular fingers were ready to grip him.
Despite the rapidity of the attack, Tom, by an adroit movement, eluded his assailant. The bewilderment which at first had threatened seriously to interfere with him was gone. Cool-headed and steady of nerve, he attempted to leap toward his horse.
Before he could reach the animal, however, his mysterious adversary was upon him.
Desperately Tom Clifton strove to tear away from the arms which encircled his waist. At the high school gymnasium he had learned a few tricks in wrestling. One of these broke the hold.
Then two wildly-struggling figures swayed back and forth in the hollow, now illuminated by the faint light which came from the fire, then, once again, beyond its range, with the pale rays of the moon sending their shadows weirdly over the uneven ground.
What was the object of the attack? Who could this man be who had crawled up to his camp and sprung upon him as fiercely as a wolf? He could find no answer.
All his strength, skill and cunning responded to his call. He was outmatched in strength but not in generalship. His rapid movements made firelight, horse and trees appear to be whirling around and around. Again and again he tore away; again and again, with the skill of a boxer, he blocked the hands which attempted to seize him. Once he was down, sprawling on hands and knees.
His game defense seemed destined to end in failure; for, as rapidly as an eagle darts upon its prey, so did the other follow up his advantage. Tom Clifton gritted his teeth. He heard a cry of exultation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the dark figure towering above him.
Then, with extraordinary swiftness, he twisted around and gripped his opponent’s leg just in time to prevent himself from being crushed to earth.
Involuntarily, the enemy straightened up to keep his balance. And in that instant the nimble Tom had sprung to his feet.