He attacked the unresisting figure and fought him until he lay limp and quiet and Freckles had no strength left to lift an arm.

Then he arose and stepped back, gasping for breath.

With his first lungful of air he shouted: "Time!" But the figure of Wessner lay motionless.
Freckles watched him with regardful eye and saw at last that he was completely exhausted.

He bent over him, and catching him by the back of the neck, jerked him to his knees.

Wessner lifted the face of a whipped cur, and fearing further punishment, burst into shivering sobs, while the tears washed tiny rivulets through the blood and muck.