movement of the head served to
defeat Yuma's aim and his fist thumped heavily against the floor,
bringing a grimace of pain to his face. Disregarding his injured wrist,
Hollis wrenched savagely and succeeded in rolling free of Yuma and
reaching his feet. He had moved quickly, but the lithe, cat-like
half-breed was before him, bounding toward the pistol on the floor. He
was bending over it, his fingers gripping its butt, when Hollis,
throwing himself forward bodily, crashed into him and hurled him heavily
to the floor.

This time Yuma lay face downward, his arms outstretched, and Hollis lay
sprawled out on top of him. But Yuma had succeeded in holding to the
pistol; it was grasped in his outstretched right hand, just out of
Hollis's reach.

For an instant again both men lay silent, breathing rapidly. Then,
yielding to the rage that still possessed him, Hollis bounded to his
feet, striking Yuma a crashing blow in the face as he did so. While Yuma
reeled he brought his booted foot down on the hand holding the pistol,
grinding it under his heel.

Yuma screamed with pain and rage and got to his feet, holding his
injured hand with the other. The pistol lay on the floor where Yuma had
dropped it when Hollis's boot had come in contact with his hand. For an
instant Yuma stood gripping his hand, his face hideous with passion.
Then with a snarl of rage and hate he drew a knife from the folds of his
shirt and sprang toward Hollis.

Hollis tensed himself for the clash, rapidly measuring the distance, and
when Yuma came close enough caught him squarely on the side of the jaw
with a vicious right swing. But in some manner when Hollis stepped aside
to avoid Yuma's knife, his feet had become entangled with the legs of
the table that Yuma had previously overturned. As he struck he slipped,
the blow at Yuma's jaw not having the force he intended it to have. He
caught himself, slipped again and went down, turning completely over the
table top and falling face downward to the floor. He saw Yuma throw
himself forward and he tried to wriggle out of danger, but he failed. He
felt the half-breed's weight on his body, saw the knife flash in the
dull light. He tried to roll over and grasp the knife in its descent,
but could not, his left arm, now useless, being pinned to the floor by
Yuma's knee.

A revolver roared spitefully--once--twice. Yuma's knife hissed past
Hollis's ear and struck the floor, its point sunk deep, its handle
swaying i