Slavin, with a curse, bade him come.

'Blaney,' said Graeme sharply, 'you get back.' Blaney promptly stepped
back to Keefe's side. 'Nelson, you and Baptiste can see that they stay
there.' The old man nodded and looked at Craig, who simply said, 'Do the
best you can.'

It was a good fight. Slavin had plenty of pluck, and for a time forced
the fighting, Graeme guarding easily and tapping him aggravatingly about
the nose and eyes, drawing blood, but not disabling him. Gradually there
came a look of fear into Slavin's eyes, and the beads stood upon his
face. He had met his master.

'Now, Slavin, you're beginning to be sorry; and now I am going to show
you what you are made of.' Graeme made one or two lightning passes,
struck Slavin one, two, three terrific blows, and laid him quite flat
and senseless. Keefe and Blaney both sprang forward, but there was a
savage kind of growl.

'Hold, there!' It was old man Nelson looking along a pistol barrel. 'You
know me, Keefe,' he said. 'You won't do any murder this time.'

Keefe turned green and yellow, and staggered back, while Slavin slowly
rose to his feet.

'Will you take some more?' said Graeme. 'You haven't got much; but mind
I have stopped playing with you. Put up your gun, Nelson. No one will
interfere now.'

Slavin hesitated, then rushed, but Graeme stepped to meet him, and