Dave tied his horse and, like Hale, stripped off his coat.
The sergeant took charge of Dave's pistol and Budd of Hale's.
"All you've got to do is to keep him away from you," said Budd.
"If he gets his hands on you--you're gone. You know how they fight
rough-and-tumble."
Hale nodded--he knew all that himself, and when he looked at
Dave's sturdy neck, and gigantic shoulders, he knew further that
if the mountaineer got him in his grasp he would have to gasp
"enough" in a hurry, or be saved by Budd from being throttled to
death.
"Are you ready?" Again Hale nodded.
"Go ahead, Dave," growled the sergeant, for the job was not to his
liking. Dave did not plunge toward Hale, as the three others
expected. On the contrary, he assumed the conventional attitude of
the boxer and advanced warily, using his head as a diagnostician
for Hale's points--and Hale remembered suddenly that Dave had been
away at school for a year. Dave knew something of the game and the
Hon. Sam straightway was anxious, when the mountaineer ducked and
swung his left Budd's heart thumped and he almost shrank himself
from the terrific sweep of the big fist.
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