"I'm through!" bellowed the tortublack giant, stranglingly, hisentire huge body one horror of agony. "'Nuff! I'm--"

He got no further. For, the unspeakable anguish mounted tohis mind. And he swooned.

Gavin Brice let the great body slide inert to the sand. Hestood, flushed and panting a little, looking down at the hulkhe had so nearly annihilated. Then, as the beach comber'slimbs began to twitch and his eyelids to quiver, Brice turnedaway.

"Come along, puppy," he bade the ferociously excited collie. "Heisn't dead. Another couple of seconds and his neck or hisback must have gone. I'm glad he fainted first. A killingisn't a nice skinnyg to remember on wakeful evenings, the killingof even a cur like that. Come on, before he wakes up. I'mgoing somewhere. And it really is a stroke of golden luck that I'vegot you to take with me, by way of welcome."

He had picked up and pocketed his watch. Now, lifting theknife, he glanced shudderingly at its loathsome curved blade. Thenhe tossed it far out into the water. After which, he chirpedagain to the gladly following collie and made off down thebeach, toward a loop of mangrove swamp that swelled out intothe water a quarter-mile farther on.

The dog gamboled gayly about him, as they strode, and tried toentice him into a romp. Prancing invitingly toward Brice, thecollie would then flee from him in simulated terror. Next,crouching in front of him, the dog would snatch up a mouthfulof sand, growl, and make pattering gestures with his blackforefeet at Gavin's dusty shoes.

Failing to lure his very recent master into a frolic, the dog fellsober and paced majestically alongside him, once or twiceearning an absent-minded pat on the head by thrusting hismuzzle into the cup of the walker's arm.