Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-10-08

THE Mullah ceased to rend the air with
= warcries; but he literally Kissed with
fury as he circled about. The padre, on his
pivoting foot, was able to face him every
| where, and everywhere the shield confronted
him, leap and dart where he would. Sud-
denly he sprang high into the air and made
cut number seven as he came down, his
great weight adding force to the mighty
stroke. The knife slashed down full at the
padres head; but the shield, tilted to an
| angle, shot up to cover it, and the blow
glanced off against the copper bosses, leaving
yet another honorable scar upon that war
worn frame.
| Both men were thrown off their balance
for the moment. Then the Mullah charged
again, raining quick blows right and left,
high and low. The padre never looked at the
flashing blade. He watched his opponents
eyes as the good boxer must do-and always
| the shield anticipated the way of the steel.
playing for sometime brought him we'll for
ward with his face beyond the line of his
body. Promptly the padre shot out with his
right and caught the giant a stunning blow
full between the eyes. Then, dropping the
shield he stepped in as srnartly as if he were
boxing for a championship at the German
Gym. The Mullah had not steadied him
self before that terrible left fist, coming
straight from the shoulder, took him neatly
under the chin. Up went his heels in the air,
and down went his head with a tremendous
thwack to Mother Earth.
|HOW are you? How are your" yelled the
- Sirdar with unexpected appropriate
ness. @Feelin' ftp" Then, rclapsing into
the rankcst cocl;ney accent, Fair ply!
Fair pl'y!"
| The padre was wrenching the knife from
the Mullah's loosening hand. A deep
throated murrnur went rumbling round the
ring of spectators. The tribeslnen fully ex-
pected to see their champion disembowcled;
yet not one of them stirred. They remained
unconcerned, and perhaps trif1e contemp
tuous, when the padre hurled the knife out
of sight and tossed the shield back to its
| owner.
Then it became evident that the end was
not yet The padre was waiting as if to meet
another onslaught. His face was white as
death, and his eyes very bright.
| The Mullah collected his badly scattered
wits and rose. By all the rules of the ring
he should have been counted out; but at
length he stood upright again, and made
ready for another rush. He flung himself
across the intervening space with extended
arms, the great sinewy hands working and
grasping for murderous clutch on his adj
versary's throat.
Back stepped the padre one pace, throw
ing his weight forward upon his left foot as
he shot out sledgehammer left. 1t landed
precisely on the point of the Mullah's nose
and sent him backward, yelping with agony.
| Thenceforward the istic drama went with
rush. The boxer was working up to a eli
max, and he gave no respite A jab on the
mark brought the Mullahs head forward
with grunt, and an upper cut sent it back
again. A half-arm swing with the right
arrived with thud upon the swelling ear,
and once more the Mullah found himself
extended on the ground.
There was roar and booming as of surg
ing waters in his ears but above it all he
could hear the peals of hooking laughter,
long and loud that greeted his downfall.
Sick and beaten though he was, they stung
him at last into one final desperate effort,
and, crouching and moving on all tours like
monstrous baboon, he went out again,
slowly, to the attack. His object was to grip
his enemy about the legs. The padre could
have wrecked him with his knee; but in
stead he moved warily around the ring too
swiftly to admit of the crawling giant COM
inc TO close quarters The laughter grew