The short struggle, desperate as it had been, was not a noisy one, and I could hear nothing about us to indicate any alarm.

No hurrying footsteps, no cries told of disturbance in any direction.

Kirby rested exactly as he had fallen, and I stared down at the dim outlines of his distended body, unable to comprehend how my swift blow could have wrought such damage.

I bent over him wonderingly, half believing he feigned unconsciousness.

The fellow was alive, but his head lay upon a bit of jagged rock--this was what had caused serious injury, not the impact of my fist.