Bob crouched lower and lower with a well-defined notion of getting a
twist on his opponent. For an instant he partially freed one side. Like
lightning Roaring Dick delivered a fierce straight kick at his groin.
The blow missed its aim, but Bob felt the long, sharp spikes tearing the
flesh of his thigh. Sheer surprise relaxed his muscles for the fraction
of an instant. Roaring Dick lowered his head, rammed it into Bob's chin,
and at the same time reached for the young man's gullet with both hands.
Bob tore his head out of reach in the nick of time. As they closed again
Roaring Dick's right hand was free. Bob felt the riverman's thumb
fumbling for his eyeball.
"Why, he wants to cripple me, to kill me!" the young man cried to
himself. So vivid was the astonishment of this revelation to his
sportsman's soul that he believed he had said it aloud. This was no mere
fight, it was a combat. In modern civilized conditions combats are
notably few and far between. It is difficult for the average man to come
to a realization that he must in any circumstances depend on himself for
the preservation of his life.
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