there could
be no quarter.

* * * * *

The fallen monster howled, but his voice cut short as his foul mouth,
with its razor-edged fangs, closed on the other's body. His talons,
seeking a hold, clawed deep.

Mal Shaff, his brain a screaming maelstrom of weird emotions, aimed
pile-driver blows at the enemy, clawed and ripped. Together the two
rolled, locked tight in titanic battle, on the sandy plain and a great
cloud of heavy dust marked where they struggled.

In desperation Ouglat put every ounce of his strength into a heave that
broke the other's grip and flung him away.

The two monstrosities surged to their feet, their eyes red with hate,
glaring through the dust cloud at one another.

Slowly Ouglat's hand stole to a black, wicked cylinder that hung on a
belt at his waist. His fingers closed upon it and he drew the weapon. As
he leveled it at Mal Shaff, his lips curled back and his features
distorted into something that was not pleasant to see.

Mal Shaff, with doubled fists, saw the great thumb of his enemy slowly
depressing a button on the cylinder, and a great fear held him rooted
in his tracks. In the back of his brain something was vainly trying to
explain to him the horror of this thing which the other held.

Then a multicolored spiral, like a corkscrew column of vapor, sprang
from the cylinder and flashed toward him. It struck him full on the
chest and even as it did so he caught the ugly fire of triumph in the
red eyes of his enemy.

He felt a stinging sensation where the spiral struck, but that was all.
He was astounded. He had feared this weapon, had been sure it portended
some form of horrible death. But all it did was to produce a slight
sting.

For a split second he stood stock-still, then he surged forward and
advanced upon Ouglat, his hands outspread like claws. From his throat
came those horrible sounds, the speech of the fourth dimension.

"Did I not tell you, foul son of Sargouthe, that I had solved a mystery
you have never guessed at? Although you destroyed me long ago, I have
returned. Throw away your puny weapon. I am of the lower dimension and
am invulnerable to your engines of destruction. You bloated...." His
words trailed off into a stream of vileness that could never have
occurred to a third-dimensional mind.

Ouglat, with every line of his face distorted with fear, flung the
weapon from him, and turning, fled clumsily down the moor, with Mal
S