his pistol the talon-hands were lunging
at his throat once more.

With the gasps of the girls ringing in his ears, Kirby bunched himself
for another side leap only to find the cacique all over him like an
octopus. Momentarily the knife hung above his chest, and Kirby, dismayed
at the powers of his opponent, almost felt that the thing must plunge
before he could break the octopus hold.

But he had no intention of being defeated, and now he was getting used
to the fight. The priest's left arm swiftly clenched about his neck and
shoulders, and the right arm, with the knife, attempted a drive through
to the heart. Suddenly, however, Kirby lurched sideways and backward,
and as the octopus grip slackened for a flash, he himself got a
wrestler's grip that left him ready to do business. As the priest broke
free, he slid around in an attempt to fasten himself on Kirby's back.
Quickly, tensely Kirby doubled, and knew that he had done enough. The
cacique shot over his shoulders, described a somersault in midair, and
landed with a sharp crack of head and shoulders against unyielding
stone.

* * * * *

From the semicircle of other priests went up a gasp. From Naida came a
strangled cry of joy. Kirby made one leap for the knife which had fallen
from the cacique's hand as he slumped into unconsciousness, and then he
straightened up with the weapon safe in his possession.

"There, you old billygoat," he croaked in English, "maybe you won't try
any more fast ones for awhile."

A second later he stepped over the sprawled body to stand beside Naida.

Upon the wrinkled countenances of the remaining caciques was stamped a
look of dismay and hatred which boded no good. It was plain to Kirby
that in battering up the man detailed to kill him, he had committed a
desecration of first order.

"Is there anyone else who cares to fight?" he flung at them in Spanish,
showing a contempt as great as their rage.

The response he got was instant. From one old gullet, then from others,
came choking, snarling sounds which presently became words. By those
words Kirby heard himself cursed with a vituperation which made him,
even in his temporary triumph, feel grave.

But he did not let that soberness trouble him long. For the main point
now was that no one made a move to fight further, which was what he had
expected. He had flung them the challenge, knowing that he was possessed
of their knife, and suspecting that