Both men fell.
Finding his invisible assailant disposed viciously to contest detention, Johnny fell in with his mood and buried his long, lean fingers cruelly in the other's throat.
The fortunes of war turned speedily.

Johnny's victim squirmed desperately to his feet and bounded away through the forest.
Now as they ran, stumbling and finding their way as best they might in the glitter of lightning, there came from the region of the camp the unmistakable crack of a pistol.

Two shots in rapid succession followed--an interval of five seconds or so--and then another.

The final trio was the shot signal of the old buffalo hunters which Diane had taught to Johnny.
"Where are you ?" barked the signal.
Drawing his ancient pistol as he ran, Johnny, in vain, essayed the answer.

The veteran missed fire.