All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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32 locked together. Then Blue Otter uttered the Auk! of a man who makes a great effort, and Carlo was flung a dozen feet through the air. But Carlo kept his knife. Furthermore, the jolt seemed to have brought him back to his senses. He had kept his rage. But he was deadly calm. His face was white. His eyes glittered. He had fallen as a cat might have fallen. He was as quick as a cat on the recovery. Before the Indian could reach him, Carlo was crouched, ready to meet him. By this time, though, Blue Otter himself was armed. He had slipped that foot-long hunting knife of his from his sheath. He also was crouched with his feet wide apart. There was a lull—a lull that was tense and tight with tragedy. It seemed long to Muriel Sangree stand- ing there. A strand of her hair drifted across her eyes and she brushed it back. It would not remain in place. She brushed it back again. She fastened it into place. She was aware of the sunshine slanting. through the trees. She was -aware of a wild pineapple gleaming red through the green shadows up. among the live oak branches. She heard a bird sing. She remembered the strain of a new waltz she had heard at Palm Beach. Then she heard Blue Otter speak: “You go ’way. Ino kill.” . Carlo dribbled a blasphemy. “You go,” repeated Blue Otter, almost gently. There is no oath in the Seminole speech. “ Yougo. Him go—”’ The last was a reference to Shuiski, and to this Shuiski himself replied in an ure expected way. . For a time after he had fallen he had continued to peer into his imaginary ant- hill. There may have been something of the opossum in his nature, something of that instinct for stealth and self-preserva- tion that all essentially timorous brutes possess. He must have maintained his undignified position even after his wits came back to him. His revolver had been jerked from his holster at his last stumble, had lain there under him. He discovered this. He picked it up. He saw that Blue Otter's back was turned. He fired. ALL-STORY WEEKLY, Blue Otter himself half turned. He gave a quick leap to one side. For, at the same moment, he saw that Carlo would knife him if he turned his back. Shuiski fired a second time. / But that first shot must have been enough to rouse Muriel Sangree from her lethargy. There for a while the struggle had seemed as unreal to her as all the rest of the adventure. It had seemed like some- thing seen on the stage, only less convinc- ing. Now, however, she knew, as if the thing had been shouted at her, that this was an affair of men fighting for their lives. The first shot fired by the man on the ground had gone close. She had seen that in the jerk and start that Blue Otter had given; And when Blue Otter turned it was as though his eyes had met hers, as if there had been a message interchanged. If so, it had been a message of alliance. All this was very brief, very swift. Then Muriel had found a weapon to her hand. It was on the platform against which she leaned, left there as if by de- sign. It was the brass kettle in which Blue Otter had prepared her medicine and the first of ‘her food. If it had been the in- strument for the saving of her own life, it was now to become the instrument for sav~ ing his. The kettle had a handle. It responded to the girl’s frail strength as readily as the slung-shot to the hand of David. She hurled the kettle from where she stood. Whether she struck Shuigii\with it or not, she was never to know. But. she had spoiled his aim, had given him something else to think about. His second bullet went so wild that the bloom of the wild pineapple, up among the live-oak branches, toppled and hung askew. Before, he could fire again, Blue Otter had slid In ‘upon Shuiski like a snake and was strangling him. Muriel heard her own voice let out a cry: “ Carlo! ~ It had been @ cry of warning for her ally. But Blue Otter had not needed this. With his left arm still mn a strangle-hold about Shuiski’s throat, he had dropped his cCoOmiclbooks C©