With a twist of his body he threw his stockinged feet forward and caught
toe-holds on the rough surface of the wall. Next he released his right
hand and fumbled downward till he found a solid piece of protruding
rock. Having tested it thoroughly he let go his holds with both feet and
left hand and dropped his full weight into the grip of his right. Above
him, MacGregor, with his face glued to the brink of the opening, gasped
twice, once because he was sure Reivers was dropping straight to the
bottom, and again when his right hand took the shock of his full weight
without loosening its grip.
Reivers heard and looked up and smiled. Then he swung his feet inward
again, secured another hold, lowered his right hand to another sure
grip, and so made his startling way down the inwardly slanting cliff.
At the third desperate drop MacGregor drew back, unable to stand the
strain of watching. Had Reivers been able to see on top of the cliff he
would have laughed, for the Scotchman was down on his knees in the snow,
earnestly praying.
Finally MacGregor summoned up courage to peer down once more. Then he
knew his prayers had been answered. Reivers was hanging easily by his
hands, directly above the front of the large dugout, and his feet were
less than ten feet above the bottom of the cave. MacGregor gave a whoop
of thanksgiving and gathered to him an armful of stones.
For a moment Reivers hung there, looking down and appraising the
situation. He loosened his hold until his whole weight hung on the ends
of his fingers.
"Come out and fight, Shanty!" he bellowed suddenly. "Come out, you cheap
cur, and fight like a man!"
Nothing loath Moir came, responding like a wild animal on the instant of
the weird challenge from above. Like a wild man he came, six-shooter in
hand, tearing the front of the dugout away in his rush, and Reivers
dropped and struck him neatly the instant he appeared.
It was a carefully aimed drop. Landing on Moir's neck, Reivers would
have killed him. He had no wish to kill him--yet. He landed on Moir's
shoulders and the six-shooter went flying away as the two bodies crashed
together and dropped on the sand with a thud.
Reivers was up first. It was well that he was. Tammy and Joey were only
a step behind Moir. Like wildcats they clawed at Reivers and like
wildcats they rolled on the ground when his fists met them. Then Moir
was up on his feet. His senses were a little dull, but he saw enough of
the situation to satisfy him. Before him was something to fight, to
rush, to annihilate. And he rushed.
Up on the cliff the maddened MacGregor yelped joyously, a stone in each
hand, as Reivers leaped forward to meet the rush and struck. Shanty Moir
had expected a grapple, and Reivers' fist caught him full in the mouth
and threw him back on his shoulders a man's length away.
When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face had the appearance of
crushed meat, but he growled through the blood and rushed again. Reivers
struck, and Moir's nose disappeared in a welter of blood and gristle. He
struck again, but Moir came on and locked him in his huge arms.
Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were out. They saw their chance
and leaped forward to strike at Reivers' back. With his life depending
upon it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir's great body around, and Joey and
Tammy stayed their hands barely in time to save plunging their knives
into the back of their chief.
Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two stones the size of his
head. One struck Joey on the shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain
into the dugout; the other dropped at Reivers' feet. With a yell he
hurled Moir from him and snatched up the stone. Joey, reading his doom
in the Snow-Burner's eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The
heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck the water with a
splash and was gone.
But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms licked around from
behind and raised Reivers off his feet. The hold was broken as suddenly
as it was clamped on. They were face to face again, and face to face
they fought, trampling the sand and the fire indiscriminately. Each blow
from Reivers now splashed blood from Moir's face as from a soaked
sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly:
"That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That for the dirt you did me!"
The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met the stone wall and
came whining back. They cowered, jammering in fright at the terrible
combat which raged, minute after minute, before them.
Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A knife, dropped by Joey
or Tammy, gleamed in the light of the fire. She picked it up. With a
smile of great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly toward the
struggling men. They were locked in a clinch now, and with the smile
widening she moved around behind Moir's broad back. The knife flashed
above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he wrenched an arm free
and knocked the knife away.
"Keep away!" he roared, springing out of the clinch. "This is between
Iron Hair and me."
Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing himself Reivers had hurled
Moir to one side, and Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands
nearly touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when Reivers had
dropped upon him. Like the stab of a snake his hand reached out and
snapped it up.
"Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!" shrieked MacGregor and hurled
another stone.
His aim was true this time. The stone struck Moir squarely on his big
head and drove his face into the sand. He never moved after it.
Reivers looked up. On the brink of the cliff MacGregor on his knees was
chanting his war-cry, his thanks that vengeance had not been denied him.
Reivers smiled.
"That's a good song, Mac, whatever it is!" he laughed, when the maddened
Scotchman had grown quieter. "But the fact remains that you disobeyed my
orders and interfered."
"Aye! I interfered. I hurled a stone and sent the black soul of Shanty
Moir back to his brother the devil!" chanted MacGregor. "But, lad, I did
not interfere until you'd paid him in full--until you'd paid double--for
the kick he gave you. Three of them there were, and they were armed and
you with bare fists! God's blood! Never since men stood up with fist to
fist has there been such fighting. One disabled, and two men dead! Dead
you are, you poor pups! And I can tell by the way you lived where you're
roasting now.
"Ah, ah! I ha' seen a man fight; I ha' seen what I shall never forget,
and, poor stick that I am compared to him, I ha' e'en had a hand in it
myself. Man, man! Would you grudge me a little bite after your belly's
full of battle?"
Reivers spoke quietly and coldly.
"Go down and tear out as much of the stone wall as you can. I'll take
the heavy stones from this side." He turned to Tillie. "Take the big
belt from Iron Hair and give it to me. Then make all ready for the
trail. We march to-night."
And Tillie, as she harnessed the dogs, spat upon Iron Hair, the beaten.