Over-confidence betrayed him. Joe's right was waiting. The slender figure was lifted clean from the floor by the impact. He crashed down in a heap and, rolling over, lay on his face, twitching.

A roar broke from the spectators. That was what they wanted.

Bela ran out from her corner, distracted. Musq'oosis intercepted her.

"No place for girl," he said sternly. "Go back."

"He's dead! He's dead!" she cried wildly.

"Fool! Only got wind knocked out!" He thrust her back to her place by the door.

Big Jack was stooping over the prostrate figure, counting with semaph.o.r.e strokes of his arm: "One! Two! Three!"

The spectators began to think it was all over, and the tension let down. Joe grinned, albeit wearily. There was not much left in him.

Meanwhile Sam's brain was working with perfect clearness. He stirred cautiously.

"Nothing broken," he thought. "Take nine seconds for wind enough to keep away till the end of the round. Then you have him!"

At the count of nine he sprang up, and the spectators roared afresh.

Joe, surprised, went after him without overmuch heart. Sam managed to escape further punishment.

A growing weariness now made Joe's attacks spasmodic and wild. He was working his arms as if his hands had leaden weights attached to them.

A harrowing anxiety appeared in his eyes. At the sight of it a little spring of joy welled up in Sam's breast.

"Pretty near all in, eh?" he said. "You're going to get licked, and you know it! There's fear in your eye. You always had a yellow streak.

Crying Joe Hagland!"

Joe, missing a wild swing, fell of his own momentum amid general laughter. Derision ate the heart out of him. He rose with a hunted look in his eyes. Sam suddenly took the offensive, and rained a fusillade of blows on the damaged eye, the heart, the kidneys. Joe, taken by surprise, put up a feeble defence.

The next round was the last. Around Caribou Lake they still talk about it. A miracle took place before their eyes. David overcame Goliath at his own game. Jack beat down the giant. At the referee's word, Sam sprang from his corner like a whirlwind, landing right and left before Joe's guard was up.

The weary big man was beaten to his knees. Struggling up, he tried to clinch, only to be met by another smashing blow in the face. He turned to escape, but the dancing figure with the battering fists was ever in front of him.

He went down again, and, stretching out on the floor, began to blubber aloud in his confusion and distress.

"He's had enough," said Sam grimly.

The result was received in the silence of surprise. A few laughed at the spectacle Joe made. Others merely shrugged. The victory was not a popular one.

Big Jack went through the formality of counting, though it was patent to all that the fighting was done. Afterward he turned to Sam and shook his hand.

"I didn't think you had it in you," he said.

This was sweet to Sam.

Joe raised himself, snivelling, and commenced to revile Sam.

"Aw, shut up!" cried Big Jack, with strong disgust. "You're licked!"

Joe got to his feet. "Only by trickery!" he cried. "He wouldn't stand up to me! I could have knocked him out any time. Everybody was against me! It takes the heart out of a man." Tears threatened again.

General laughter greeted this.

"That's all right!" cried Joe furiously from the door. "I'll get you yet!" He went out.

The others now began to crowd around Sam, congratulating him a little sheepishly, slapping his back. A great, sweet calm filled Sam. This was the moment he had dreamed of during his long days on the trail and his lonely nights at Grier's Point.

He had made good. He was a man among men. They acknowledged it. It was like a song inside him. The hideous wound that Bela had dealt him was healed.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. From her corner she was gazing at him as at a young G.o.d. Calm filled her breast, too. Joe was gone, and her secret still safe. Surely after to-night, she thought, there would be no need of keeping it.

They heard Joe climb into his wagon outside and curse at his horses.

Instead of turning into the road, he drove back to the door and pulled up. Bela turned pale again.

Joe shouted through the doorway: "Anyhow, no woman keeps me!"

"d.a.m.n you! What do you mean?" cried Sam.

"You owe the clothes you wear to her, and the gun you carry! The horses you drive are hers!"

"You lie!" cried Sam, springing toward the door.

Joe whipped up his horses. "Ask her!" he shouted back.

Sam whirled about and, seizing the wrist of the shrinking Bela, dragged her out of her corner.

"Is it true," he demanded--"the horses? Answer me before them all!"

She fought for breath enough to lie.

He saw it. "If you lie to me again I'll kill you!" he cried. "Answer me! Is it your team that I drive?"

His violence overbore her defences. "Yes," she said tremulously. "What difference does it make?"

The men looked on, full of shamefaced curiosity at this unexpected turn. One or two, more delicate-minded, went outside.

Sam's ghastly wound was torn wide open again. "What difference?" he cried, white and blazing. "Oh, my G.o.d, it means you've made a fool of me a second time! It means I've nerved myself and trained myself to fight this brute only to find he's able to give me the laugh after all!"

"Sam--you so poor, then," she murmured.

It was like oil on the flames. He flung off her beseeching hand. "I didn't ask your help!" he cried pa.s.sionately. "I told you to leave me alone! You can't understand a man has his pride. You're loathsome to me now!"

Mahooley interfered with good intent. "Sam, you're foolish. What difference does it make? n.o.body blames you!"

"Keep your mouth out of this!" cried Sam, whirling on him.

To Bela he went on blindly: "The team is at the Point. I'll have it here in an hour! My credit at the store is yours! You hear that, Mahooley? Turn over what's coming to me to her. The gun, the axe, the blankets I'll keep. I'll pay you for them when I earn it. I'll make you a present of my labour, driving for you. And I hope to G.o.d I'll never see you again!" He ran out.