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CHAPTER III BEATING A GOOD MAN TREVISON had not moved. He had watched the movements of the other closely, noting his huge bulk, his lithe motions, the play of his muscles as he backed across the room to dispose of the pistol. At Corrigan's words though, Trevison's eyes glowed with a sudden fire, his teeth gleamed, his straight lips parting in a derisive smile. The other's manner toward him had twanged the chord of animosity that had been between them since the first exchange of glances, and he was as eager as Corrigan for the clash that must now come. He had known that the first conflict had been an unfinished thing. He laughed in sheer delight, though that delight was tempered with savage determination. "Save your boasts," he taunted. Corrigan sneered. "You won't look so damned attractive when you leave this room." He took off his hat and tossed it into a corner, then turned to Trevi- son with an ugly grin. "Ready?" he said. "Quite." Trevison had not accepted Corrigan's suggestion about taking off his " damned foolish trappings," and he still wore them — cartridge belt, leatherchaps, spurs. But now he followed Corrigan's lead and threw his hat from him. Then he crouched and faced Corrigan. They circled cautiously, Trevison's spurs jingling musically. Then Trevison went in swiftly, jabbing with his left, throwing off Corrigan's vicious counter with' the elbow, and ripping his right upward. The fist met Corrigan's arm as the latter blocked, and the shock forced both men back a step. Corrigan grinned with malicious interest and crowded forward. "That's good," he said; "you're not a novice. I hope you're not a quitter. I've quite a bit to hand you for riding me down." Trevisongrinned derisively, but made no answer. He knew he must save his wind for this ma...
