mself to an upright position and flung out his gun arm.
His eyes were again on the line of light. A fury of recklessness was
urging him. There were the breaks, and he blazed at each in turn,
carefully, deliberately. A moment later two shots came from the right
and left of him, and he dropped down behind his barrier, but not before
he had heard the death-cries of fierce blasphemy at the far end of the
room.

He lay behind his shelter breathing hard and suffering an agony of
physical pain. The sweat poured down his forehead. It seemed to him
that everything was somehow receding from him, even the sense of his
own danger. In these feelings he realized how near he was to defeat,
and with all his will he set himself to conquer his weakness. A few
moments passed. His pain eased. Then, with all the recklessness of
the gambler, he prepared for his final throw.

He was certain he had accounted for four of the enemy. Four. He
calculated there were still two remaining. He shifted his position,
moving himself clear of his shelter. A hell of suffering was endured
in the process, and the sweat poured out afresh upon his forehead. He
gritted his teeth with superlative determination and flung back the
dreadful faintness seeking to smother his powers.

He raised himself to a sitting posture. He sought support from the
wall behind him. Then, with unbroken nerve, he raised both Sikkem's
guns, one in each hand. Without a tremor he held them, and his aim
took in the two points at which he felt the remaining foe were
advancing upon him. Oh, for one moment of light wherein to assure
himself! But the thought passed as it came, followed by a wild, simple
hope that one of his shots might find its billet.

He pressed the trigger in each hand. He fired rapidly. He fired until
both guns were empty. Then he flung them to the ground with a clatter.
For an instant he thrilled at the sound of a cry of pain, and the
fierce accompanying blasphemy. Then he flung himself down and crawled
to his retreat behind the palliasse, convinced that the cry was in the
voice of Sikkem Bruce.

His sufferings were well-nigh unendurable. His very breathing caused
him an exquisite pain. He even found himself wondering how much longer
he could endure.

But his work was not yet finished. If he must die he would die
fighting.

Now, blending with fresh sounds of movement along the side walls,
another sound added its threat to the quiet of th