* * * * *

And then, grotesquely, preluded by a cry from the woman, the tragedy
which death had once cut short was enacted out, there on the rough
sheet of ice and snow.

The man with the spear fixed his eyes on the girl's young partner,
raised his weapon, leveled it unsteadily, and tossed it weakly
forward. The pointed end clipped its target and sent him reeling, with
a thin trickle of slow blood running from his right shoulder. The girl
staggered to her feet and ran between the two. But the big warrior's
hand swept her aside, and a short sword leaped from its sheath at his
waist.

Wes was stupidly staring, unable to move. The combatants were utterly
unconscious of him. The younger one, painfully wounded, drew his own
sword and swayed forward to meet his enemy.

The fight was grotesque. Both were weak, unsteady. The short swords
stabbed slowly, missing by yards in their drunken course. Hatred was
on the big man's dark face, and a fierce lust for blood. It was only
when the weapons clashed loudly together that Craig came out of his
daze.

"Stop!" he yelled, jumping forward. "Wait! Stop!"

All three turned and looked full at him. And then death, which had
been banished for but a few minutes, swooped swiftly once more on the
young man. While he stood peering, bewildered, at Craig, the huge
warrior steadied his blade and drove it home through his unguarded
chest. The man slid over the edge of the ice into the cleft below.

The girl shrieked again and went down to his fallen figure, while the
victor waved his bloody sword aloft with a shout of triumph. Then,
without hesitation, he leaped at the American.

Wes was taken wholly by surprise. He dropped the vial of Kundrenaline
and the hypodermic, and he heard them crash and break at his feet as
he fumbled for his automatic, in a holster at his belt. But the
warrior was upon him. His crimsoned blade swung high, gleamed
downward, and smote Wesley Craig square on the side of the head.

Lucky for him, the flat of the sword had been used--but it was enough.
The American reeled under the terrific swipe. He had a last glimpse of
two inflamed eyes, of a savage, contorted face; then the universal
whiteness went black, and he fell, and the whole incredible scene
passed from his consciousness....

* * * * *

Just how long he had remained unconscious, Wesley Craig had no means
of determining. His head was hurting d