Instead he met Bryce's
knee in his abdomen, and forthwith he folded up like an accordion.
The next instant Bryce had stooped, caught him by the slack of the
trousers and the scruff of the neck and thrown him, as he had thrown
Rondeau, into the midst of the men advancing to his aid. Three of
them went down backward; and Bryce, charging over them, stretched two
more with well-placed blows from left and right, and continued on
across the clearing, running at top speed, for he realized that for
all the desperation of his fight and the losses already inflicted on
his assailants, the odds against him were insurmountable.
Seeing him running away, the Laguna Grande woods-men took heart and
hope and pursued him. Straight for the loading donkey at the log-
landing Bryce ran. Beside the donkey stood a neat tier of firewood;
in the chopping block, where the donkey-fireman had driven it prior
to abandoning his post to view the contest between Bryce and Jules
Rondeau, was a double-bitted axe. Bryce jerked it loose, swung it,
whirled on his pursuers, and rushed them. Like turkeys scattering
before the raid of a coyote they fled in divers directions and from a
safe distance turned to gaze apprehensively upon this demon they had
been ordered to bring in.
Bryce lowered the axe, removed his hat, and mopped his moist brow.
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