It was evident to Nick Carter now that he had tired out his foe. At the same time, he began to feel a little fatigued himself.
“I’ll have to bring this performance to an end,” he muttered. “I believe I’ve got this thing licked. But Calaman may try some dirty trick on me if I don’t watch. So I guess I’ll——”
Dodging this way and that, he sought an opening under the scales for a thrust with his spear that would settle the argument, once for all.
He did not jab downward, because he had satisfied himself that he could not hope to pierce the scales. Instead, he was delivering half-arm thrusts under the armor. All of them were too short, because he was obliged to keep clear of the deadly horns.
But his chance came at last. The Golden Scarab swerved to one side and seemed to reel slightly. Instantly Nick Carter drove in his spear with all his force, and the whole length of the barbed iron sank out of sight in its body.
The rear end crumpled up, and a hoarse scream came from it at the same instant.
Nick Carter believed he had given it a death wound. But he did not relax his caution on that account.
It was well that he did not, for the fore part of the creature swung around and struck at Nick so viciously that he had only just time to jump clear of the blow.
“Look out, chief!” roared Chick. “He’ll get you yet if you don’t look out! Mind those horns! Give him another stab! Get him somehow.”
“Wow! Let me get into that!” shouted Patsy, running forward, rifle in hand.