not shoot,--small chance had a woman to handle such precious
things.

'Then, if danger come by my back, cry aloud, "My husband!" No;
thus, "My husband!"'

He laughed as she repeated it, pinched her cheek, and reentered
the circle. Not only in reach and stature had the Bear the
advantage of him, but his blade was longer by a good two inches.
'Scruff' Mackenzie had looked into the eyes of men before, and he
knew it was a man who stood against him; yet he quickened to the
glint of light on the steel, to the dominant pulse of his race.

Time and again he was forced to the edge of the fire or the deep
snow, and time and again, with the foot tactics of the pugilist,
he worked back to the center. Not a voice was lifted in
encouragement, while his antagonist was heartened with applause,
suggestions, and warnings. But his teeth only shut the tighter as
the knives clashed together, and he thrust or eluded with a
coolness born of conscious strength. At first he felt compassion
for his enemy; but this fled before the primal instinct of life,
which in turn gave way to the lust of slaughter. The ten thousand
years of culture fell from him, and he was a cave-dweller, doing
battle for his female.

Twice he pricked the Bear, getting away unscathed; but the third
time caught, and to save himself, free hands closed on fighting
hands, and they came together.

Then did he realize the tremendous strength of his opponent. His