The Western news. [volume] (Libby, Mont.) 1933-current, 1934-04-26
CHAPTER XI-Continued
Copyright. 1888.
by the Bobba Merrill Co.
WNU Service.
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the table, anxious once more to reach
the partial security of the wall. He
rounded the table. his left hand ex-
tended before him, his right at his side,
clutching the revolver.
He was warned. He did not know
how. It might have been the faintest
whisper of breath--a slight rustic Of
movement. Or that even more vague
instinct OF danger which he had often
felt before. Whatever 1t was, he
sensed his peril and whIrled, swiftly,
to face the room.
The blow caught Peter on the back
of the jaw. near the ear, Just AS he
was turning. 1t was terrific smash,
that would have ended the struggle
right then. had he not turned when he
did. As 1t was 1t glanced Off. but Its
force knocked him off balance and sent
him sprawlIng to the floor on all fours
The novelst's quarry had used the
same strategy that Peter had adopted.
He had been standing back to the
wall. waiting to catch his enemy be-
tween himself and the vague light OF
the windows AS Peter rounded the
table he came into the position for
which the man had been waiting.
At the Impact Of the blow, Peters
revolver clattered to the floor. Partly
dazed, the novelist lost precious mo-
ment In cropping for the weapon in the
darkness. In that instant, his enemy
was upon him. The accuracy Of Sec
ond blow was spoiled by the dark
ness. 1t caught Peter on the shout
der. but 1t served to acquaInt his al
Hailant with his whereabouts. The
man was on his back, raining blows
down upon him, terrific flail-like blows.
that bruised and stunned, but still
could find no vital spot. Unless he
could reverse the tables. and quickly,
Peter realized that he was through.
He drew his right leg up under him,
and then kicked out with oil his
strength. His flashing foot caught the
other man on the ankle and sent him
spinning against the table. Peter
kicked again, but the second effort
missed. However he was free OF those
crushing blows. Once more he CROPPED
for his weapon, but could not find 1t.
lie could hear the scrape of his en-
emy's heels as he struggled to his feet.
Again he had wasted a precious sec
ond In vain search for the revolver.
Too late now. Peter rolled to the
right quickly, to avoid the others
rush. Only one blow caught him, and
he was halfway to his feet before they
came to grips.
Once more the blows rained on him,
fierce hammers Of rage. any one of
which might end the struggle II 1t
landed In vital spot. Peter was
thankful for the darkness which pre-
vented accuracy. Nor was he helpless
now With all his strength, he hurled
his fists at his invisible foe. and found
an uncertain exultatlon at the hard Inn
pact Of his knuckles which told him
they had found target.
A random shot caught him on the
check and sent, him Keeling backward
Into a chair. 1t was too frai to sup
port him, and he careened across It,
The chair splintered and Peter
caromed into the wall But his fall
had been broken. Painting, he strug-
gled to his feet. Now, for the first
time, his opponent was between him
and the light. Peter could see him
there, crouched over the chair. crop
ing frenziedly into the blackness to
find him. Choking back his sohbing
breath. Peter advanced cautiously.
Now was his chance!
The man Strengthened up just as
Peter hurled himself through the mir
in flying tackle. He struck his an
tagonist just above the knees, the Inn
pact numbing his shoulder. But Peter
did not care. The man was down.
Peter was confident of his ability to
fight on more than even terms, once
he came to grips with the fellow.
Peter Cardigan was more than six feet
tall, with a lean flanked hardness that
did not belle the power of his we'll
trained muscularity. Releasing his
grip on the fellows legs, Peter aimed
a vicious blow to the abdomen, intent
on ending the struggle rs promptly rs
possible. The blow missed It's mark,
glancing Off. too high, against the ribs.
He drew back his arm for another
blow, but there was no time His an
tagenist. gripped him about the body,
crushing him down. There was no
room for blow now. Locked in each
others arms, they rolled, painting,
across the floor. Each was seeking for
an opening that the other was too eau
tious to grant.
They crashed into the table. There
was q tinkle OF broken glass. Once
Peter got the palm Of his hand under
his antagonists chin. He grltted his
teeth and put all his strength into the
effort as he forced the others head
back. His breath was whistling. pain.
fully, through his nostrlls. There was
an ndescrbable agony In his chest, as
though some tremendous weight were
crushing out his breath. Still he
forced back that head. Ii would soon