y shot with the red fire of anger.
Grant did not hesitate. As he landed on the ground he fired a
heat-bolt at one of Relegar's left legs. It smoked. There was an odor
of burned hair. The queer material of the leg glowed white for an
instant and then burned in two and the bottom part dropped off.

Relegar squealed. His two eyes almost exploded in a rage of red. He
wasn't permanently injured--he would grow a new leg--but he was
furious because he dared not come close to the shield. The radiation
would paralyze him within a couple of seconds. Grant saw his body sag
a little on the corner where the leg had been, and then he had one of
those flashes of intuition that every being had to have, to live long
in the swamp. He knew how to win this fight. He trained the heat-gun
on the second leg on the same side and pressed the trigger. That leg
burned in two and Relegar's body sagged still more.

Grant started on the third one. A feeling of triumph was growing in
him. Then Relegar charged.

Grant hadn't expected that. There was little he could do but hold the
shield frantically before him to try to ward off the fangs and the
mandibles.

He had had no idea that the Uranian's body was so heavy. It seemed to
Grant the thing must weigh three or four hundred pounds. It thundered
into him and knocked him over as if he had been a straw. The heavy
hoofs galloped over him. He was surprised, but he rolled on over and
came to his feet, shooting.

He got the fourth and fifth legs this time. Relegar's body sagged
considerably, but the spider, his entire body turning red with rage,
spun around and charged again. This time the great mouth was open, the
fangs ready, and the mandibles were extended. Grant left himself open
until he could feel the spider's fetid breath in his face, then he
flung out his shield.

The sharp fangs struck it. Relegar turned into a tornado of fury for
perhaps a second, trying to shake the skin from his teeth. But it was
too late. The skin came loose, but the radiation had paralyzed the
spider. He sank feebly to the ground with the shield under him. His
eyes glared with unutterable malignant hate, but that was all. His
muscles were impotent.

Grant stood a few feet away, getting his breath, feeling the
trip-hammer in his temple slow down to normal. Then he aimed. The
sixth, seventh, and eighth legs burned off. He put the pistol in its
holster.

"I'm not going to try to kill you," he said. "I suppose that's
i