s
bore him down. As he fell, he saw the white shaft of one of Nadia's
hunting-arrows flash past his helmet and bury itself to the flock in
the body of one of the horde above him. Nadia knew that her arrows could
not harm her lover, and through a chink between two boulders she was
shooting into the thickest of the mob speeding her light arrows with
the full power of her bow.

Though down, the savages soon discovered that Stevens was not out. In
such close quarters he could not use his sword, but the fourteen-inch
blade of the dirk, needle-pointed as it was and with two razor-sharp,
serrated cutting edges, was itself no mean weapon, and time after time
he drove it deep, taking life at every thrust. Four more red monsters
threw themselves upon the prostrate man, but not sufficiently versed in
armor to seek out its joints, their fierce short spear thrusts did no
damage. Presently four more corpses lay still and Stevens, with his,
to them incredible, earthly strength, was once more upon his feet in
spite of their utmost efforts to pinion his mighty limbs, and was again
swinging his devastating weapon. Half their force lying upon the field,
wiped out by a small, but invincible and apparently invulnerable being,
the remainder broke and ran, pursued by Stevens to the point where the
red monsters had first halted. He recovered his arrows and returned to
the cave, opening his face-plate as he came.

"All x, sweetheart?" he asked, rolling away the boulders. "Didn't get
anything through to you, did they?"

"No, they didn't even realize that I was taking part in the battle, I
guess. Did they hurt you while they had you down? I was scared to death
for a minute."

"No, the old armor held. One of them must have gnawed on my ankle
some, between the greave and the heel-plate, but he couldn't quite get
through. 'Sa darn small opening there, too--must have bent my foot
'way around to get in at all. Have to tighten that joint up a little,
I guess. I'll bet I've got a black spot and blue spot there the size of
my hand--maybe it's only the size of yours, though."

"You won't die of that, probably. Heavens, Steve, that cleaver of yours
is a frightful thing in action! Suppose it's safe for us to go home?"

"Absolutely--right now is the best chance we'll ever have, and something
tells me that we'd better make it snappy. They'll be back, and next time
they won't be so easy to take."

"All x, then--hold me, Steve, I can't stand the sight o