Both were on their feet in an instant, facing each other in the tiny moonlit arena a dozen feet from the silent and watchful dogs.
Even now Philip could not see the half-breed's features because of a hood drawn closely about his face.

The "breed" had made no effort to draw a weapon, and Philip flung himself upon him again.

Thus in open battle his greater physical strength and advantage of fifty pounds in weight would have won for Philip.

But the forest man's fighting is filled with the elusive ermine's trickery and the lithe quickness of the big, fur-padded cat of the trap-lines.
The half-breed made no effort to evade Philip's assault.

He met the shock of attack fairly, and went down with him.