Slowly he got to his feet, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Several space moths were weaving through space toward the shadow of the pinnacle concealing the bandit. Crag stared, breathing more evenly now. More and more of the nebulous creatures were rising above the catatread and moving straight as a plumb line in the wake of the leading moths.
He stared at the inky shadows where he knew the killer lurked. The first two or three moths had already reached their destination. He could see their pulsating, irradiant veins curled around some object that had attracted them. More and more of the creatures floated into the shadow, disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared for a moment, and then reappeared as a vague glow, fluttering toward the mass their companions had already formed.
Ron Crag watched. The killer was apparently oblivious to their presence. Ron wet dry lips with his tongue, while his fingers slowly reset the dials on the gun. Range: sixty yards! Diameter of beam: four inches! Slowly he raised the gun and took careful aim, eight inches to the right, eighteen inches above the radiant cluster of space moths. If he was wrong, if he.... It was a gamble and if he was shooting at the wrong space Joe Braun would get him with the flare of Ron's gun. Even if he only wounded him, the other would get him.
"Worried, feller—" the harsh voice began.
A coruscating tube of flame leaped at the shadow across the canyon; for a moment it illuminated the area around the bandit in a brilliant glare. His taunting voice broke off with an agonized gasp. In the brief flash Ron Crag saw the man twist erect, his empty hands grasping heavenward. He took three halting steps and tumbled into full view in the earthlight. A great, charred hole was burned completely through his chest, and already the space moths were shifting to the wound, eagerly absorbing the escaping heat from the suit, and from Joe Braun's body.
In the brief flash Ron Crag saw the man twist erect.
Ron Crag slowly approached the crumpled form, gun ready. One glance at the sightless eyes, the bearded face and open mouth behind the visorport was all he needed to confirm what he already knew. Joe Braun had jumped his last uranium claim; Joe Braun had pulled his last gun.