nding toward the approaching man.

"Hey!" yelled Don. "Look out. Gersal!" He started forward in a half
run, his staff poised for a blow.

The other jumped sideways but the furry body grazed his leg and spun,
claws and teeth working furiously. The man looked down and screamed.

Don's staff came down in a chopping blow and the animal bounced out
onto the open path. Its paws raised little spurts of dust as it spun
about and prepared for another spring.

Again, Don's staff swung down. The gersal flopped about for an instant
in the dust of the path, then faced toward him, an angry scream coming
from its throat.

Again, it tried to get its balance for a spring, but one hind leg
dragged limply. Again, the staff swung, tumbling the beast over in the
dust.

There was a flurry of paws and the gersal struggled up to its haunches,
then sat up, its brilliant red eyes fixed on Don. It stretched out
short forelegs in seeming supplication, then batted futilely at the
punching staff end.

Disregarding the pleading attitude of the beast, Don continued to punch
at the squirming body till it was obvious that no vestige of life could
remain. Then, he looked at the other man.

The fellow had managed to get to the center of the path before he had
collapsed. He half sat, half lay against his pack, breathing raggedly.
Sweat stood out on his forehead. He looked at Don vaguely, making an
obvious effort to focus his eyes.

"Thanks ... Friend," he mumbled. "You tried---- Oooh!" He closed his
eyes and stiffened, his legs stretching out and his back arching.

The men who walked ahead had been attracted by the commotion. They came
back and one jerked off his pack and bent over the man in the path. He
looked over at the dead animal, then glanced up at Don.

"How many times was he bitten?"

"I doubt if he got more than one," Don told him.

The other nodded and looked searchingly at the victim. Then, he reached
into his clothing and removed a small packet. He opened it and pulled
the protective cover off a syrette.

"There's a small chance, then," he remarked. He poked the needle of the
syrette into the sufferer's forearm and squeezed the tube.

The stricken man moved convulsively and opened one eye. His companion
nodded.

"You might make it, Delm," he said cautiously. "Only one bite, and we
got to you soon." He nodded.

"If you can hang on for just five minutes, you'll walk the trail
again." He looked up at Don.

"That was quick