from the throat of a woman. But there
were no women here in this mad world. Dashing forward he climbed to the
top of a huge rock--and looked down at an incredible scene.

He was on the lip of a rocky ravine. Across on the other side of the
ravine was a hole in the rock, a shallow cave. Crouching in the back of
the shallow depression was a woman. She was shielding something with her
body.

In front of the shallow cave was--a man. He was not the type of man to
grace the pages of a fashion magazine, but in spite of bulging muscles
and heavy, uncombed hair, there was a lithe alertness about him that was
appealing.

There was something else that was more appealing.

The way he was facing the dragon.

The lizard bird, all claws and fanged mouth and hooked wings, was trying
to knock the man down. He was fighting it desperately. His only weapon
was a heavy club. He struck heavily with the club, leaped back out of
danger. The bird lunged at him. He hit it across the head and knocked it
backward. The bird was on the ground. It lunged again, screaming
shrilly. The man struck at it, dodged to one side, hit it again. The
bird came back to the attack.

No matter how valiant the defense, there could be only one ending. The
dragon was too big, too fierce, too impervious to pain, too hard to
kill, to be stopped by a man with a club. It lunged again. The man
struck at it, slipped, fell. Hissing with triumph, leathery wings
flapping, the lizard bird leaped at him.

[Illustration: The dragon was too big, too hard, to be killed by a man
with a club ... there could be but one ending]

_Rat-tat-tat-tat_--Craig let go with his tommy-gun.

_Rat-tat-tat-tat_--The other men joined in, pouring a murderous fury of
cross-fire down into the ravine. The bird was almost as big as a horse.
It was a fierce fighter. It would relinquish a meal when it was dead and
not before. One slug would not stop it. Dozens of slugs poured into it,
smashed it to a bloody pulp. Even as it died it still tried to reach the
man it had attacked.

As suddenly as it had started, the shooting stopped. Craig took the
smoking gun from his shoulder. The dragon gave one last convulsive heave
and lay still.

The man had scrambled to his feet. The sudden, blasting fury of the
gun-fire must have shocked him out of his wits. He had been facing
death, bravely; and suddenly death had struck down the creature that was
attacking him. He stood without moving. In the cave behin