I caught a glimpse of Asa Hall flung high into the air, shot dead in mid-flight, the whirling body dropping into the ruck below.

I saw the savage, whose fingers were twined in my hair, lift a gleaming tomahawk and circle it about his head; I stared into the hate of his eyes, and as it swept down--there was a glare of red and yellow flame between us, the thunder of an explosion; the roof above seemed to burst asunder and fall in--and darkness, death..