It was the world old struggle between patrician and proletarian.
Sanderson was an all-round athlete and a boxer of no mean order. This
was not his first battle. His quick eye showed him from David's
awkward attitude, that his opponent was in no way his equal from a
scientific standpoint. He looked for the easy victory that science,
nine times out of ten, can wrest from unskilled brute force.
For, perhaps, half a minute the combatants stood thus.
Then, with lowered head and outstretched arms, David rushed in.
Sanderson side-stepped, avoiding the on-set. Before David could
recover himself, the other had sent his left fist crashing into the
country-man's face.
The blow was delivered with all the trained force the athlete possessed
and sent David reeling against the rough wall of the house.
Such a blow would have ended the fight then and there for an ordinary
man; but it only served to rouse David's sluggish blood to white heat.
Again he rushed.
This time he was more successful.
True, Sanderson partially succeeded in avoiding the sledge-hammer fist,
though it missed his head, it struck glancingly on the left shoulder.
numbing for the moment the whole arm. Sanderson countered as the blow
fell, by bringing his right arm up with all his force and striking
David on the face. He sank to his knees, like a wounded bull, but was
on his feet again before Sanderson could follow up his advantage.
David, heedless of the pain and fast flowing blood, rushed a third
time, catching Sanderson in a corner of the room whence he could not
escape.
In an instant, the two were locked in a death-like grip.
To and fro they reeled. No sound could be heard save the snapping of
brands on the hearth, the shuffle of moving feet and the short gasps of
struggling men.
In that terrible grasp, Sanderson's strength was as a child's.
He could not call into play any of the wrestling tricks that were his,
all he could do was to keep his feet and wait for the madman's strength
to expend itself.
The iron grip about his body seemed to slacken for a moment. He
wriggled free, and caught the fatal underhold.
By this new grip, he forced David's body backward till the larger man's
spine bade fair to snap.
David felt himself caught in a trap. Exerting all his giant strength
he forced one arm down between their close-locked bodies, and clasped
his other hand on Sanderson's face, pushing two fingers into his
eyeballs.
No man can endure this torture. Sanderson loosed his hold. David had
caught him by the right wrist and the left knee, stooping until his own
shoulders were under the other's thigh. Then, with this leverage, he
whirled Sanderson high in the air above his head and threw him with all
his force down upon the hearth.