Then, when the scoundrel put down his gun,
as he naturally would--his chance would be at hand. If a quiver of
his eyes betrayed him--
He closed them tight. Dizziness began to creep over him, and the
fire in his brain grew hot again. He heard footsteps, and they
stopped in the sand close beside him. Then he heard a human voice.
It did not speak in words, but gave utterance to a strange and
unnatural cry. With a mighty effort Carrigan assembled his last
strength. It seemed to him that he brought himself up quickly, but
his movement was slow, painful--the effort of a man who might be
dying. The automatic hung limply in his hand, its muzzle pointing
to the sand. He looked up, trying to swing into action that mighty
weight of his weapon. And then from his own lips, even in his
utter physical impotence, fell a cry of wonder and amazement.
His enemy stood there in the sunlight, staring down at him with
big, dark eyes that were filled with horror. They were not the
eyes of a man. David Carrigan, in this most astounding moment of
his life, found himself looking up into the face of a woman.
III
For a matter of twenty seconds--even longer it seemed to Carrigan
--the life of these two was expressed in a vivid and unforgettable
tableau.
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