242 THE BIG BLOW. 
dent could see other gray crows, trailing after 
one another, like ghouls, out of the surging 
snow-fog; and he heard the cawings of his 
own flock, rising all about him ; heard the clash 
of beaks and beat of feathers as other rooks 
engaged in combat. 
Then followed an interval of awful, des- 
perate struggle, during which he had no time 
to do anything but save his neck. By savage 
and brutal rushes the gray crow tried to beat 
him down. Although carrying only half-an- 
inch more in length, and two inches to the good 
in wing-span, the crow seemed to have the 
best of the weight, as he had, too, in murder- 
ousness of beak and stocky build. Moreover, 
the rook was a killer only by force of hard 
times; the gray crow killed without the in- 
ducement of any hard times. 
But it was a close and grim fight neverthe- 
less. Once the gray crow had the president 
by the neck, but with a wonderful upward 
spring he got clear again. In doing so the 
rook just missed losing one eye, and, blinded 
by the blood from the gash that opened up 
beside it, he struck wildly, receiving a dig 
on the back that made him feel sick and 
giddy, only to turn and send in a low lunge 
that prevented his gray cousin gaining any 
advantage from the blow. 
