Part 20 (1/2)

”I can't go on fighting a man that's as good for nothing as my old grandmother,” said Ross.

But his contempt was abating; he was growing uneasy; Philip was before him as fierce as ever.

”Fight your equal,” he cried.

”I'll fight you,” growled Philip.

”You're not fit. Give it up. And look, the dark is falling.”

”There's enough daylight yet. Come on.”

”n.o.body is here to shame you.”

”Come on, I say.”

Philip did not wait, but sprang on his man like a tiger. Ross met his blow, dodged, feinted; they gripped, swinging to and fro; there was a struggle, and Philip fell again with a dull thud against the ground.

”Will you stop now?” said Ross.

”No, no, no,” cried Philip, leaping to his feet.

”I'll eat you up. I'm a glutton, I can tell you.” But his voice trembled, and Philip, blind with pa.s.sion, laughed.

”You'll be hurt,” said Ross.

”What of that?” said Philip.

”You'll be killed.”

”I'm willing.”

Ross tried to laugh mockingly, but the hoa.r.s.e gurgle choked in his throat. He began to tremble. ”This man doesn't know when he's mauled,”

he muttered, and after a loud curse he stood up afresh, with a craven and s.h.i.+fty look. His blows fell like scorching missiles, but Philip took them like a rock scoured with s.h.i.+ngle, raining blood like water, but standing firm.

”What's the use?” cried Ross; ”drop it.”

”I'll drop myself first,” said Philip.

”If you won't give it up, I will,” said Ross.

”You shan't,” said Philip.

”Take your victory if you like.”

”I won't.”

”Say you've licked me.”

”I'll do it first,” said Philip.

Ross laughed long and riotously, but he was trembling like a whipped cur. With a blob of foam on his lips he came up, collecting all his strength, and struck Philip a blow on the forehead that fell with the sound of a hammer on a coffin.