quickly certain.

At the same time Pepsis knew--or anyway acted as if she did--that to be
struck by one or both of those terrible vertical, poison-filled fangs
was sure death. It would be like a blow from a battle-axe, with the
added horror of mortal poison poured into the wound.

So Eurypelma about-faced like a flash, and Pepsis was foiled in her
strategy. She flew up and a yard away, then returned to the attack. She
flew about in swift circles over his head, preparatory to darting in
again. But Eurypelma was ready. As she swooped viciously down, he lunged
up and forward with a half-leap, half-forward fall, and came within an
ace of striking the trailing blue-black abdomen with his reaching fangs.
Indeed it seemed to Mary and me as if they really grazed the metallic
body. But evidently they had not pierced the smooth armor. Nor had
Pepsis in that breathless moment of close quarters been able to plant
her lance. She whirled, up high this time but immediately back, although
a little more wary evidently, for she checked her downward plunge three
or four inches from the dancing champion on the ground. And so for wild
minute after minute it went on; Eurypelma always up and tip-toeing on
those strong hind legs, with open, armed mouth always toward the point
of attack, and Pepsis ever darting down, up, over, across, and in and
out in dizzy dashes, but never quite closing.

Were Mary and I excited? Not a word could we utter; only now and then a
swift intake of breath; a stifled "O" or "Ah" or "See." And then of a
sudden came the end. Pepsis saw her chance. A lightning swoop carried
her right on to the hairy champion. The quivering lance shot home. The
poison coursed into the great soft body. But at the same moment the
terrible fangs struck fair on the blue armor and crashed through it. Two
awful wounds, and the wings of dull fire beat violently only to strike
up a little cloud of dust and whirl the mangled body around and around.
Fortunately Death was merciful, and the brave amazon made a quick end.

But what of Eurypelma, the killer? Was it well with him? The sting-made
wound itself was of little moment; it closed as soon as the lancet
withdrew. But not before the delicate poison sac at its base inside the
wasp-body had contracted and squirted down the slender hollow of the
sting a drop of liquid fire. And so it was not well with Eurypelma in
his insides. Victor he seemed to be, but if he could think, he must have
had grav