The representative of the Central Southern Syndicate had shaken himself clear of his enemy, and rose, wiping his thumb on his trousers.

The Arab, both hands to his forehead, screamed aloud, then snatched up his spear and rushed at Torpenhow, who was panting under shelter of Dick's revolver.

Dick fired twice, and the man dropped limply.

His upturned face lacked one eye.

The musketry-fire redoubled, but cheers mingled with it.