shoved backward. Such a dual cross pressure was due, eventually,
to mean one of two things:--either the snapping of the spine or
else the breaking of the neck. Unless the grip could be broken,
there was no earthly help for its victim.

The beach comber, in agony of straining spine and throat,
thrashed wildly to free himself. He strove to batter the
tenacious little man to senselessness. But he could hit
nothing but the sloping back, or aim clumsily cramped hooks
for the top and sides of Gavin's protected head.

Meantime, the pressure was increasing, with a coldly scientific
precision. Human nature could not endure it. In his extremity,
the beach comber attempted the same ruse that had been so
successful for Brice. He slumped, in pseudo-helplessness. The
only result was to enable Gavin to tighten his hold, unopposed
by the tensing of the enemy's wall of muscles.

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

He got no further. For, the unspeakable anguish mounted to
his brain. And he swooned.

Gavin Brice let the great body slide inert to the sand. He
stood, flushed and panting a little, looking down at the hulk
he had so nearly annihilated. Then, as the beach comber's
limbs began to twitch and his eyelids to quiver, Brice turned
away.