Then he raised his hand and let it fall.
The caster of the rope, his collar bone broken and his shoulder blade cracked across, fell in a heap at his feet as the swaying crowd made way.

Once again there was silence, one moment of confusion, hesitation.

Then came the end.
There came, boring into the silence with horrible distinctness, the sound of one merciful, mysterious shot.

The giant straightened up once, a vast black body towering above the black mass about him, and then sank gently, slowly down, as though to curl himself in sleep.
There was a groan, a roar, a swift surging of men, thick, black, like swarming bees.

Some bent above the two prone figures.