But now Bremilu gripped his arm. Afar, on the other side of the thicket, they heard a singular commotion, cries, shouts, and the vigorous beating of the fern-trees.
“The thing has turned, master!” the Merucaan exclaimed, at Allan's side. “Now throw the fire-death! Etvur! Quickly, throw!”
Stern swept the thicket with his beam.
“Ah! There--there!”
The light caught a moving, hairy mass of brown--a huge, squat, terrible creature, its back now toward them. At one side Stern saw a vague blackness--the long, unbound hair of Beatrice!
He glimpsed a white arm dangling limp; and in his breast the heart flamed at white-heat of rage and passion.
But his hand was steel. Never in his life had he drawn so fine a bead.
“Hold the light for me!” he whispered, passing it to his companion. “I want both hands for this!”
Bremilu held the beam true, blinking strangely with his pink eyes. Stern, resting his pistol hand in the hollow of his left elbow, sighted true.
A fraction of a hair to the left, and the bullet might crash through the brain of Beatrice!