The hands of the _mozo_ gripped the Indian's throat, and he uttered a rasping, savage roar of triumph, more beastlike than human, as he settled hard upon the chest of the enemy whose life he was choking out.

Again rose the savage cries of the on-lookers.
Not even yet had the end come.

There was a heaving struggle, a sharp cry, and Juan sprang back, pressing his hand against his side, where blood came from between his fingers.

The Indian had worked his left hand to the sheath of his knife, and stabbed the giant who had so nearly overcome him.

Staggering, the two again stood erect, and yet again came the cries from the many red men and the little band of whites who were witnessing this barbarous and brutal struggle.