Alternate title: Cannibal Fists.
so did Bill. "Me, I show them where to cut," went on Santos, "for I have seen the Chinese torture like those."
I felt froze solid and my clothes were damp with sweat; also I was mad, like a caged rat.
"All right, you black swine!" I yelled at him, kind of off my bat, I reckon. "Go ahead--do your worst! But remember one thing--remember that I licked you! I knocked you cold! Killin' me won't alter the fact that I'm the best man!"
He screamed like a maddened jungle cat and I thought he'd go clean nuts. I'd sure touched him to the quick there!
"You did no beat me!" he howled. "I was big fool! I let you hit me! White pig, I break you with my hands! I tear your heart out and give it to the dogs!"
"Well, why didn't you?" I asked bitterly. "You had your chance, and you sure muffed it! I licked you then, and I can lick you now. You wouldn't dare look at me crost-wise if my hands wasn't tied. I'll die knowin' that I licked you."
His eyes was red as a blood-mad tiger's now, and
Howard could add depth to any kind of story. This is one of his boxing stories, but the boxer has left the ring and is sailing the South Seas. He and a friend have run off to visit a native friend, and find out the old chief has been killed, and his replacement is the boxer's old enemy.
There is a graphic, extended, bare-knuckle boxing match.
It's not Joseph Conrad or even Jack London, so it doesn't have quite the atmosphere of someone who had actually visited the place, but it's tight and well-crafted.