thirty feet and slammed on the rock next to the water.
Then it was two and two, and the fight became even fiercer! But for a moment The Avenger’s pale gaze was drawn down to the dock again. Drawn by the entrance of a new element into the battle.
That was dogs!
Seven or eight of the same type of huge brute as the two they had been regretfully forced to dispose of suddenly came lunging along the water from the south. With slavering jaws, they flung themselves against the men, indiscriminately, leaping for the throats of attackers and attacked alike.
But this didn’t last long, either. For it was at about this time that the full nightmare quality of the fracas came clear.
Benson’s gaze had been jerked to the stairs again by a low but agonized cry. He just caught sight of another man flying over the stair rail to fall toward the water’s edge.
But this one hit something on the way down—hit it and broke it.
The Avenger thought he saw something like a thick black fishline break as the man’s body scraped along the cliff wall. He thought so, but even with his marvelous eyesight he could not be sure.
The next moment he knew what it was.
There was a low, but tremendous roar. Then the entire face of the cliff at that point seemed to surge sullenly up a foot, to subside again with another roar that was more long-drawn-out.
That black length had been a wire, broken by the man’s falling body.
The men at the foot of the cliff were no longer trying to keep silent. They were all yelling, with their screams almost lost in the racket of falling rock and earth and trees. And then the mass, thousands of tons, hit them!
Men, dogs, dock, and boat disappeared.
It was as if a blanket had been thrown over a heap of puppets on a miniature stage set, covering them carelessly for the ensuing night. Only these puppets were men, and the night would be the long one of death!
The sullen rumble of the last falling rocks died away. The quiet that followed seemed even more breathlessly still than before.
“Whew!” breathed Smitty, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.
Mac said nothing. He stared in awe at The Avenger. Once again this man had saved their lives by his marvelous powers of observation. Who but Benson would have seen those little holes, read their meaning, and acted with such methodical precaution? Those blasting holes might be freshly drilled and loaded. They might be part of a trap that might be sprung while the three were in a bad place for it. So The Avenger had led them back from the line of holes. And they were living, now, instead of sharing the fate of the others under the grinding mass of rock, trees, and earth.
“Hold on,” Mac whispered. “One of the skurlies got clear, after all. See? He must have been beyond the blasting line in the other direction from us.”
The Avenger’s colorless, telescopic eyes finally made out the figure even at that distance.
“Shan!” he said in a low tone. “He let his men fight for him while he kept safely out of range.”
“Say—two got away,” said Smitty, pointing.
The man he pointed to was not far ahead, at the edge of the rock slide. They went to him.
They found that two had not gotten away. On the body of this man was a rock weighing several hundred pounds. What it had done to that body in its fall was something Mac and the giant found their eyes shuddering away from. But there was still a spark of life in the fellow.
“Russian,” said The Avenger, bending over the suffering face.
“Yes,” the man whispered raggedly. “White . . . Russian . . . Sharnoff! Shar—”
That was all. He was dead.
“So Sharnoff Haygar came with his gang,” said The Avenger. “He, or his men, lay in wait for Shan. Sharnoff’s gang jumped Shan’s—and both perished. As so often happens in the chess game of life, the board is swept clear of pawns, but the leaders remain.”
“All but Harlik Haygar,” said Mac, reminding Benson of the murder charge over his
Then it was two and two, and the fight became even fiercer! But for a moment The Avenger’s pale gaze was drawn down to the dock again. Drawn by the entrance of a new element into the battle.
That was dogs!
Seven or eight of the same type of huge brute as the two they had been regretfully forced to dispose of suddenly came lunging along the water from the south. With slavering jaws, they flung themselves against the men, indiscriminately, leaping for the throats of attackers and attacked alike.
But this didn’t last long, either. For it was at about this time that the full nightmare quality of the fracas came clear.
Benson’s gaze had been jerked to the stairs again by a low but agonized cry. He just caught sight of another man flying over the stair rail to fall toward the water’s edge.
But this one hit something on the way down—hit it and broke it.
The Avenger thought he saw something like a thick black fishline break as the man’s body scraped along the cliff wall. He thought so, but even with his marvelous eyesight he could not be sure.
The next moment he knew what it was.
There was a low, but tremendous roar. Then the entire face of the cliff at that point seemed to surge sullenly up a foot, to subside again with another roar that was more long-drawn-out.
That black length had been a wire, broken by the man’s falling body.
The men at the foot of the cliff were no longer trying to keep silent. They were all yelling, with their screams almost lost in the racket of falling rock and earth and trees. And then the mass, thousands of tons, hit them!
Men, dogs, dock, and boat disappeared.
It was as if a blanket had been thrown over a heap of puppets on a miniature stage set, covering them carelessly for the ensuing night. Only these puppets were men, and the night would be the long one of death!
The sullen rumble of the last falling rocks died away. The quiet that followed seemed even more breathlessly still than before.
“Whew!” breathed Smitty, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.
Mac said nothing. He stared in awe at The Avenger. Once again this man had saved their lives by his marvelous powers of observation. Who but Benson would have seen those little holes, read their meaning, and acted with such methodical precaution? Those blasting holes might be freshly drilled and loaded. They might be part of a trap that might be sprung while the three were in a bad place for it. So The Avenger had led them back from the line of holes. And they were living, now, instead of sharing the fate of the others under the grinding mass of rock, trees, and earth.
“Hold on,” Mac whispered. “One of the skurlies got clear, after all. See? He must have been beyond the blasting line in the other direction from us.”
The Avenger’s colorless, telescopic eyes finally made out the figure even at that distance.
“Shan!” he said in a low tone. “He let his men fight for him while he kept safely out of range.”
“Say—two got away,” said Smitty, pointing.
The man he pointed to was not far ahead, at the edge of the rock slide. They went to him.
They found that two had not gotten away. On the body of this man was a rock weighing several hundred pounds. What it had done to that body in its fall was something Mac and the giant found their eyes shuddering away from. But there was still a spark of life in the fellow.
“Russian,” said The Avenger, bending over the suffering face.
“Yes,” the man whispered raggedly. “White . . . Russian . . . Sharnoff! Shar—”
That was all. He was dead.
“So Sharnoff Haygar came with his gang,” said The Avenger. “He, or his men, lay in wait for Shan. Sharnoff’s gang jumped Shan’s—and both perished. As so often happens in the chess game of life, the board is swept clear of pawns, but the leaders remain.”
“All but Harlik Haygar,” said Mac, reminding Benson of the murder charge over his
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