over to one side, and stooping slightly, caught LeNoir low and tossed
him clear over his head. LeNoir fell with a terrible thud on his back,
but was on his feet again like a cat and ready for the ever-advancing
Macdonald. But though he had not been struck a single blow he knew that
he had met his master. That unbreakable guard, the smiling face with the
gleaming, unsmiling eyes, that awful unwavering advance, were too much
for him. He was pale, his breath came in quick gasps, and his eyes
showed the fear of a hunted beast. He prepared for a final effort.
Feigning a greater distress than he felt, he yielded weakly to
Macdonald's advance, then suddenly gathering his full strength he sprang
into the air and lashed out backward at that hated, smiling face. His
boot found its mark, not on Macdonald's face, but fair on his neck. The
effect was terrific. Macdonald staggered back two or three paces, but
before LeNoir could be at him, he had recovered sufficiently to maintain
his guard, and shake off his foe. At the yell that went up from Murphy's
men, the big Highlander's face lost its smile and became keen and cruel,
his eyes glittered with the flash of steel and he came forward once more
with a quick, light tread. His great body seemed to lose both size and
weight, so lightly did he step on tiptoe. There was no more pause, but
lightly, swiftly, and eagerly he glided upon LeNoir. There was something
terrifying in that swift, cat-like movement. In vain the Frenchman
backed and dodged and tried to guard. Once, twice, Macdonald's fists
fell. LeNoir's right arm hung limp by his side and he staggered back to
the wall helpless. Without an instant's delay, Macdonald had him by the
throat, and gripping him fiercely, began to slowly bend him backward
over his knee. Then for the first time Macdonald spoke:

"LeNoir," he said, solemnly, "the days of your boasting are over. You
will no longer glory in your strength, for now I will break your back to
you."