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"QUICK!" cried Northrup sharply. Into your house, Yahoya. We must be ready now for what comes!"

Drawing her after him he hurried through the clamoring throng. He realized that now for a moment, men would not be thinking of him and Yahoya. Now was the time for him to get her where she would be safest. He would not have been afraid for Yahoya had it not been for the look he had seen in Inaa's eyes so few hours ago. The old man's temper would have hardly been sweetened by Tiyo's defeat, nor his anger at Yahoya lessened.

The two men Muyingwa had deputed to stand guard at the kiva's entrance had quite naturally forsaken their posts, but were back now as Yahoya and Northrup went in.

That day Northrup and Yahoya sat long alone together in her little room, waiting. Nor did time drag for them, there was so much in each heart which must be told to the other.

As the man looked into the clear gray eyes, fearless, and filled with the love she had given him so generously, he sought to close his thoughts to what might lie in the future for them both. One of the rare moments of a man's life had come to him when past and future are hazy and unimportant, when he lives richly and to the full in the glowing present. He no longer marveled at the love which had come to them. It seemed as natural a thing as the sunshine outside.

A third man joined the two at the door, spoke with them in quick, sharp tones, and went away. The two remained, keeping their silent watch, calm, seeming untouched by thought of a near crisis. Tocha came and brought food, saying that Nayangap was with Muyingwa, and that both her lover and Tiyo were like men whose souls had gone down to Maski.

All forms had disappeared from the ledge where the pool was. Yahoya's parrot swayed upon his branch, admired his gay plumage in the water's clear mirror, and flew to the kiva seeking his mistress. From the cañon where the men of the tribe were assembled came a voice only now and then at long intervals. Then, at last, came Nayangap, her eyes bright, her face suffused with happiness, a strange elation in her manner.

"Listen!" she cried to Yahoya, running to her mistress. "In a moment you will hear the shouting. Down there they proclaim Muyingwa head captain in Tiyo's place!"

"And Tiyo?" demanded Northrup eagerly. "What does he say about it?"

"Is not Muyingwa the greater man, the better?" the girl flashed at him. "Did not Muyingwa beat Tiyo so that all men might laugh?"

Northrup had not noted that Tiyo's defeat was so marked as that, but he said nothing. Yahoya smiled a little at her maid's loyal enthusiasm.

"Men who are wise and men who are good," ran on Nayangap, "will draw to Muyingwa's side, calling him their chief. Men whose hearts are black and who listen to the words of Inaa will stand with Tiyo. Then will Muyingwa lead his men out and strike down the men of Tiyo!"

Before she had finished Strang came hurriedly into the kiva, brushing by her rudely.

"Both of them are on their feet again," he said quickly. "They have eaten and drunk, and though they have been already through hell today, both of them are as fit right now as an ordinary man! What are the devils made of? And trouble is coming, coming quick!"

"Why then are you not with your men?" cried Yahoya swiftly. "It is you who have stirred them up to this madness, you with your whisperings! And now you come here—you coward!"

"Coward, am I?" he snarled at her. "What about the man you keep here with you?"

He broke off sharply. From the cañon came the mighty shout, "Muyingwa!" And, as had already so many times happened, an answering shout arose, "Tiyo!"

It had come. Until strength had crept back into the two exhausted bodies of their principals, the tribe had waited. Now, moved everywhere by Muyingwa's ringing words and Inaa's, fierce fire had flashed out of smoldering restlessness. There came other cries, sharper cries, the shriek of a man with a knife driven into his body.

Northrup, gathering Yahoya passionately into his arms, held her there a long moment. Then he pushed by Strang, and ran out to the edge of the cliffs.

{{dhr} BELOW, the men of the tribe had drawn into two compact masses, fronting each other ominously, their short stabbing spears lifted. Between them lay a man, writhing, slowly growing still. Northrup's first thought was that it might be Muyingwa or Tiyo. But another glance showed both of them in front of their factions.

Suddenly, Muyingwa shouted out something, and his men, following him, ran toward the long stairway. Tiyo saw, understood, and shouting bore down upon them. Northrup, seeing that both factions strove now for the higher ground, ran to the head of the stairway, his automatic gripped, ready for use.

The fighting began at the foot of the stairway. Already the two sides had mixed, for, although Muyingwa's men came first to the stair, its narrow steepness held them back a little. Northrup saw Muyingwa's form surrounded by his men, saw Tiyo and Inaa, and the great spare form of the man Strang had selected for head priest to replace Inaa. He saw the whole body of men bristling with short spears and great knives, the sun glittering upon them brightly, seething back and forth, struggling for the stair.

One by one Muyingwa's men in the fore were passing up; in the rear they were striking now, dealing death, and often enough being dragged down to the death.

And in the strange silence which fell over them, all the struggle down there looked some weird play, scarcely real. It was hard for him to convince himself that this was not a mock battle, that the distorted faces, the writhing of fallen bodies, was not all sham and skilful acting. About them the mountains were so serene, above, the skies so deep a blue, the whole atmosphere so charged with quiet peacefulness. High in air a vulture hung on motionless wings, watching with sharp eyes.

But when men fell stricken by those great knives and two-edged spears, they did not move from where they had fallen; or at best but dragged their wounded bodies a little way to fall and lie still. Tiyo's men pressed forward; Muyingwa's men held back, and many were swiftly mounting the stairs.

At that Northrup wondered. For certainly Muyingwa's force was larger than the one that attacked him, and as certainly Muyingwa was no coward. But now he drew his men back, ever back, until they had gained the stairway, while Tiyo's sinister crowd charged stubbornly.

Now men were contending everywhere, upon the floor of the cañon, along the cliff sides, even at the top of the stairway, close to where Northrup stood. He saw them go down under vicious thrusts, saw two of them, their arms locked about each other, their skins red with many wounds, reel outward and drop fifty feet. And as yet the gun in his hand was cold, for there was no way for him to determine which man was Muyingwa's man, which Tiyo's. And to chance a shot at Tiyo or at Inaa in that packed mass would be to waste lead, or perhaps to kill a friend of Muyingwa.

Now he saw something which he could not understand. He figured roughly that the tribe numbered between two and three hundred men. Muyingwa and the men with him now pressing up the steep way which led to the ledge were not over twenty-five in number; the party at Tiyo's heels could have numbered only about that. And down in the cañon the rest of the men, a great mass of them, had drawn aside, and were merely watching.

At last Muyingwa had come to the top. He stood there, shouting out his short commands, then stepped back, his men following him, leaving the way open for such men as might wish to come up after them. This again seemed madness to Northrup, who, grumbling, gave way with the others. It was Muyingwa's voice in his ear that explained.

"Let them come, Yellow Beard! We shall fight them here in the open, man to man!"

"But the others, down there?" demanded Northrup.

"It is my fight and Tiyo's. Each of us has chosen twenty-five of his young men. The rest watch. And I have chosen the Man of Wisdom and you to be of my number."

"Then," cried Northrup hotly, "why do you wait for them to come up with you? You have the advantage now; strike as they climb up!"

An odd smile touched Muyingwa's stern lips.

"It is in my heart to fight fair, Yellow Beard. It is not Muyingwa's wish to be named the 'Fox.' Men already speak of him as the Eagle Chief! Let them come!"

"Then," demanded Northrup, "why didn't you fight your fight down there? You had the chance."

Muyingwa shook his head.

"I will tell you, Yellow Beard, but time has passed for long words. I am the better man, and Tiyo knew that when he raced with me. But for trickery on his part I should have come into the circle an hour before him. Look!"

He threw up his arm, and for the first time Northrup saw a long gash in the man's side.

"When we were far out, where men could not see us," he said, his face black with his anger, "Tiyo, who was behind, ran like a madman that he might come up with me. I saved my strength, thinking he had lost his senses. Then, when he was upon me, I saw that he had carried a knife with him, concealing it cunningly under his arm. He would have killed me then had I not been the greater man! Even so—you saw it—I won over him."

All of Muyingwa's men were upon the ledge now. At their head man's command they had drawn back and were watching those with Tiyo come up.

"I have sworn an oath to the great gods," Muyingwa ended briefly. "I have promised them that if they let me triumph over Tiyo in the race, I should kill Tiyo with my own hands in a way that all men might see."

Up the stairway, after the last of Tiyo's men, came surging many others who were eager to stand back and see. Northrup, glancing about, saw that many others were climbing swiftly to the cliffs upon the opposite side of the cañon. After that he had little enough time or opportunity to see anything but the steely menace before him.

Tiyo's men, mistaken in the reason for Muyingwa's retreat, thinking that they had to do with men whose hearts were already failing them, bore on at a run, lifting their voices in a hideous charging shout. Each man carried his stabbing spear drawn a little back at his hip, so that when the moment came a quick thrust outward would drive the keen edges through a man's body. It came to Northrup, even at the moment before the running line struck, that Tiyo's was the better generalship, that Muyingwa's men, waiting, must go down before the force of the wild attack.

The spit of Northrup's gun was lost in the storm of shouting. But a man had thrown wide his arms and had gone down in a heap. They were twenty feet away, every running leap cutting the distance down so that Northrup must fire as fast as he could to empty the first clip. And he realized, and his lips tightened grimly, that he would have no chance for a second. And still Muyingwa's men were standing erect, waiting.

But they were men trained under Muyingwa's own eye, cool to the last, mindful of orders. Suddenly came Muyingwa's shout, and suddenly the spears in his men's hands were lifted. Lifted, balanced high overhead, and, when the eyes of the men charging them glared redly not three-spear lengths away, the short spears were hurled outward.

Then many of Tiyo's men went down on both sides of Tiyo himself, who came on, untouched.

The two lines met, Tiyo's men that were left wielding their spears mightily, Muyingwa's men driving home their broad-bladed knives with little coughing grunts. Northrup did not know that his gun was empty, that he had cast it down, that somewhere his hands had closed about a fallen spear. He only knew that about him surged a mad carnage, that men were shouting, cursing, shrieking; that a man drove at him with uplifted spear, only to graze his shoulder and to stop dead in his tracks with Northrup's spear driven fairly through his body.

Tiyo and Muyingwa had met at last. Northrup saw that dimly, as if through a fog, saw and forgot as again he was breast to breast with a great-bodied man, who was red with blood, and who held high above his head a dripping knife.

The knife swept downward, and Northrup felt it like a burning iron in his neck and shoulder. A wild rage came upon him; a burning hatred, and from then on nothing was clear to him, no emotion rode him, but the one unleased primitive desire to kill, kill, kill! He struck out savagely, and the man who had cut at him went down and did not move.

Tiyo and Muyingwa were still struggling; yonder two of Tiyo's men drove their spears through one man so that the steel heads struck together; yonder Strang, his face ashen, hurled his spear at a man who rushed down upon him and, missing, shrieked wildly; close to the edge of the precipice three men drove two back, fighting for every step of the way.

Then bigness of body and strength of limb stood Sax Northrup in such stead as never until now. Where the fray was thickest there was his great form, his clothes splotched red, his eyes spitting blue fire, his hair and beard wet with blood. When he struck, a man must give back; when he thrust, a man must go down; when a thirsting blade drank of his own blood, his roar was like the cry of a wounded lion.

Now it seemed that the struggle had swept like great whirlpools about two centers. Tiyo and Muyingwa had been swept apart, both wounded, both standing grimly up to their bloody work. A surging knot of men contended near the edge of the cliffs. Close to Yahoya's kiva, Muyingwa was in the center of a ring of glittering blades seeking him.

Through this ring of men came Northrup, like a mad bull breaking through a flimsy fence. Two men went down before him, and but one rose again.

He stumbled over a prone man, and did not know that it was Strang's body his foot had struck. Muyingwa was here, one man against a half dozen, and it was unfair fighting. That was the one thing perfectly plain to him.

But now no longer was Muyingwa one against six. Back to back stood Northrup and Muyingwa, the two biggest men upon the ledge. Muyingwa, striking swiftly, sent a shouting laugh out by way of greeting.

"Well done, Yellow Beard!" he shouted, and shouting, thrust. "Well done, brother!"

A man went reeling back from his thrust, another stepped into his place. Northrup struck out, and a man went down. But before he could jerk back his spear another menacing figure had leaped upon him.

Northrup saw and swung his body to the right, seeking to avoid the glittering death leaping out at him. Again he felt a pain like the searing of white-hot iron, this time in his shoulder, and he went down upon one knee, his teeth set hard, the thought upon him that soon or late a man must die, and it was well to die like a man. He had lived to the uttermost, his lips had touched the lips of Yahoya; he would not cry out at taking the bitter with the sweet.

But Muyingwa, hard pressed as he was, had seen, and the knife he was wielding now drove between Northrup and instant death, buried to the hilt in the body of the man over him. Northrup jerked himself to his feet, his groping hand sweeping up his fallen spear, blacker rage than ever before in his heart that he had seemed a lesser man than Muyingwa. And before his berserk rush men fell back, muttering.

There was a great shout from the men at the cliff's edge. Northrup, pursuing a man who fled nimbly before him, saw a dozen forms racing to meet him and braced himself against them. But he saw that they divided and swept about him, that they must be Muyingwa's men come at last to the aid of their chief.

And then Northrup felt suddenly weary, and crouched down close to the precipice. It seemed that it was all over. Men stood about and did nothing. Northrup was alive, so he supposed that his side had won in the bloody game of brutes. It had all begun so suddenly, seeming merely a hideous dream. It was ending so absurdly suddenly, still like some frenzied nightmare, with the broken men lying about him.

His eyes passed by the little knot of idle men, and he saw that it had not yet ended. Muyingwa still lived, Tiyo lived, and they alone fought on. Northrup watched them curiously.

They moved back and forth, spear opposing spear, the bright points leaping forward, jerking back, thrusting skilfully, guarding jealously where death might pay forfeit for the wink of an eyelid. But it seemed to Northrup that always they drew a little near to him, that it was Muyingwa who was forcing the fight, that steadily, but oh, so slowly, he was driving Tiyo back.

Northrup ran his hand across his dimming eyes and the hand came away wet. There was a cut across his forehead which puzzled him; he had felt no wound there.

Some one came running to him. He saw that it was Yahoya. He marveled at the look in her eyes. She dropped down beside him, her arms about him.

"Watch them, Yahoya," he said thickly. "It is Muyingwa against Tiyo now."

Yes, they were drawing closer. Now there could be no doubt of that. Both men were wounded, one could not guess how badly. But both fought savagely, desperately, knowing that only in death for one if not for both, could the blood feud end.

"It's Muyingwa's fight!" said Northrup slowly. "Can't you see it, Yahoya?"

Yahoya saw nothing in all the world but her lover, crouching at her feet, her lover wounded in a dozen places. She sought to answer, but her voice broke.

"Look at their eyes," Northrup insisted. "You can guess the end in a man's eyes at a time like this, Yahoya. Tiyo is just desperate, seeking to postpone the end. Muyingwa is filled with elation. He has made a promise to his gods! Can't you see the difference?"

Yahoya sobbed and knelt, drawing her arms tighter about him. On they came, Tiyo lunging heavily, but always on the guard; Muyingwa, lighter of foot, his eyes bright with hard laughter and steely with hatred. On, until they were so close that Yahoya and Northrup must move a little to the side; on until Tiyo dared take no further step backward for fear of a plunge to death on the rocks below.

Then Muyingwa, calling out loudly, struck such a blow as he had not yet struck The haft of his spear broke against Tiyo's right wrist, and his shattered weapon and Tiyo's fallen one struck the ground together.

While men looked on, their mouths agape, Muyingwa sprang forward, only his hands lifted against the knife which Tiyo had whipped from his belt with his left hand. As Tiyo's hand went up, Muyingwa's rose with it. As Tiyo's sought to drive downward, Muyingwa's fingers shut hard about his wrist.

Now they struggled man to man, body to body, their muscles cracking, the sweat running from them like water, red sweat across deep cuts. Slowly Tiyo's hand came down, the pointed blade finding its sheath only in the empty air. Down and down, though Tiyo strove wildly to wrest it away from the fingers which shut like iron talons about his wrist. And slowly Muyingwa forced Tiyo back toward the cliff's edge.

"I have sworn, Tiyo," panted Muyingwa, "with my two hands, to cast you straight down into Maski! See how I keep my promise!"

Men gasped out at what they saw. The skin upon Muyingwa's bowed back seemed splitting asunder with the bunching of the muscles under it; the veins in his arms and forehead threatened to burst. But the fierce flames in his eyes were undimmed by thought of failing power.

For an instant the two struggling forms grew still, only the slow swelling of a muscle, the hard breathing, telling that they lived and strove. But it seemed that strength was flowing out of Tiyo, fresh strength flowing into Muyingwa.

Slowly one man bent under the other's iron hands. Slowly Tiyo's body twisted as Muyingwa's fingers commanded; slowly Muyingwa forced him down to his knees.

Then—there was no slowness now, Muyingwa's movement being like a flash of light—Tiyo was swept upward in the other's grasp as he had before been swung aloft in Northrup's. Their shadows fell across Northrup. Looking up he saw Tiyo's wildly beating arms above him.

An instant he thought they were both going together. Then he saw that with a last mighty effort Muyingwa had broken Tiyo's clutch upon him, and, as a great roar rose up from the hundreds who watched, Tiyo was flung far out.

Then Northrup gave up to the sickness upon him and was quite content to sink back into Yahoya's arms.