He pulled the trigger, and the gun spoke loud and clear, but the bullet plunged into empty space.

Then he felt that left arm begin to move, and the hand worked up behind his back like a great spider.
Higher it rose, and the huge, thick fingers reached up and around his throat, fumbling to get at the windpipe.

Pete Reeve made his last effort; it was like striving to free himself from a ton's weight.
Hysteria of fear and horror seized him, and his voice gave utterance to his terror.

As he screamed, the big fingers joined around his throat.

Any further pressure would end him! He looked up into the glaring eyes and the contorted face of the giant; the rasping, panting breathing paralyzed his senses.