But the first shot went home nicely, aimed as exactly as a scientist finds a spot with his instruments.

Where the moon's rays splashed across the bare right forearm of Bull, he sent a bullet that slashed through the great muscles.

The revolver dropped from the nerveless hand of the giant, but Bull never paused.

On he came, empty-handed, but with power of death, as the little man well knew, in the fingers of his extended left hand.

He came with a snarl, a savage intake of breath, as he felt the hot slash of Pete's bullet.