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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Courage of Marge O'Doone"

He had heard that cry, and
it stung him like an asp.
"To-night, she will be with me," he taunted David and lowered his head
for battle.


CHAPTER XXIV

David no longer saw the horde of faces beyond the thick bars of the
cage. His last glance, shot past the lowered head and hulking shoulders
of his giant adversary, went to the Girl. He noticed that she had ceased
her struggling and was looking toward him. After that his eyes never
left Brokaw's face. Until now it had not seemed that Brokaw was so big
and so powerful, and, sizing up his enemy in that moment before the
first rush, he realized that his one hope was to keep him from using his
enormous strength at close quarters. A clinch would be fatal. In
Brokaw's arms he would be helpless; he was conscious of an unpleasant
thrill as he thought how easy it would be for the other to break his
back, or snap his neck, if he gave him the opportunity. Science! What
would it avail him here, pitted against this mountain of flesh and bone
that looked as though it might stand the beating of clubs without being
conquered! His first blow returned his confidence, even if it had
wavered slightly. Brokaw rushed. It was an easy attack to evade, and
David's arm shot out and his fist landed against Brokaw's head with a
sound that was like the crack of a whip.


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