Joe placed both hands on top of his head and began to revolve his body slowly so as to present his back to the man above. In this position he remained for about fifteen seconds.
“Can you do that?” he asked solemnly.
“Of course I can,” responded the other eagerly. “Just watch.”
He slowly revolved until he stood with his back toward Joe.
Now was the latter’s opportunity.
“Quick!” he muttered to Sam Berry.
Sam put in his hand a ball of snow that was almost as solid as a stone. Joe’s fingers tightened about it and his muscles grew taut.
Many a time before had he felt that queer thrill go through his arm and shoulder as he stood before some batsman in a critical period of the game and tried to strike him out. But this time much more than a game was at stake. A human life depended upon the sureness of his aim.
[He] took careful aim at the back of the madman’s head and [sent the icy snowball whizzing as though from a catapult.]
