e crowd could be heard the smacks and thuds of
the eight flying clubs as they struck against the leather shields or
against tough and scaly hides. For minutes the conflict raged, with no
advantage apparent. Now the fighters were flat upon the floor of the
star, now dozens of feet in the air above it, as one or the other sought
to gain a height from which to plunge downward upon his opponent; but
both stayed upon or over the star--to leave its boundaries was to lose
disgracefully.

Then, high in air, the visiting warrior thought that he saw an opening
and grappled. Wings crashed in fierce blows, hands gripped and furiously
wrenched. Two powerful bodies, tapering smoothly down to equally
powerful tails, corkscrewed around each other viciously, winding up into
something resembling tightly twisted lamp cord; and the two Vorkuls,
each helpless, fell to the mat with a crash. Fast as was Zerexi, the
gladiator from the flagship, Sintris was the merest trifle faster.
Like the straightening of a twisted spring of tempered steel that long
body uncoiled as they struck the floor, and up under those shielding
wings--an infinitesimal fraction of a second slow in interposing--that
lithe tail sped. Two lightning loops flashed around the neck of the
visitor and tightened inexorably. Desperately the victim fought to break
that terrible strangle hold, but every maneuver was countered as soon
as it was begun. Beating wings, under whose frightful blows the very air
quivered, were met and parried by wings equally capable. Hands and clubs
were of no avail against that corded cable of sinew, and Sintris, his
head retracted between his wings and his own hands reenforcing that
impregnable covering over his head and neck, threw all his power into
his tail--tightening, with terrific, rippling surges, that already
throttling band about the throat of his opponent. Only one result was
possible. Soon Zerexi lay quiet, and a violet beam of light flared from
a torch at the ringside, bathing both contenders. At the flash the
winner disengaged himself from the loser, and stood by until the latter
had recovered the use of his paralyzed muscles. The two combatants then
touched wing tips in salute and flew away together, over the heads of
the crowd; plunging into a doorway and disappearing as the two officers
uncoiled from their "seats" and wriggled out into the corridor.

"Fine piece of contact work," said Wixill, thoughtfully. "I'm glad that
Sintris won, b