haff at his heels.

* * * * *

Steadily Mal Shaff gained and with only a few feet separating him from
Ouglat, he dived with outspread arms at the other's legs.

The two came down together, but Mal Shaff's grip was broken by the fall
and the two regained their feet at almost the same instant.

The wild moor resounded to their throaty roaring and the high cliffs
flung back the echoes of the bellowing of the two gladiators below. It
was sheer strength now and flesh and bone were bruised and broken under
the life-shaking blows that they dealt. Great furrows were plowed in the
sand by the sliding of heavy feet as the two fighters shifted to or away
from attack. Blood, blood of fourth-dimensional creatures, covered the
bodies of the two and stained the sand with its horrible hue.
Perspiration streamed from them and their breath came in gulping gasps.

The lurid sun slid across the purple sky and still the two fought on.
Ouglat, one of the ancients, and Mal Shaff, reincarnated. It was a
battle of giants, a battle that must have beggared even the titanic
tilting of forgotten gods and entities in the ages when the
third-dimensional Earth was young.

Mal Shaff had no conception of time. He may have fought seconds or
hours. It seemed an eternity. He had attempted to fight scientifically,
but had failed to do so. While one part of him had cried out to elude
his opponent, to wait for openings, to conserve his strength, another
part had shouted at him to step in and smash, smash, smash at the hated
monstrosity pitted against him.

It seemed Ouglat was growing in size, had become more agile, that his
strength was greater. His punches hurt more; it was harder to hit him.

Still Mal Shaff drilled in determinedly, head down, fists working like
pistons. As the other seemed to grow stronger and larger, he seemed to
become smaller and weaker.

It was queer. Ouglat should be tired, too. His punches should be weaker.
He should move more slowly, be heavier on his feet.

There was no doubt of it. Ouglat was growing larger, was drawing on
some mysterious reserve of strength. From somewhere new force and life
were flowing into his body. But from where was this strength coming?

A huge fist smashed against Mal Shaff's jaw. He felt himself lifted, and
the next moment he skidded across the sand.

Lying there, gasping for breath, almost too fagged to rise, with the
black bulk of the enemy looming through th