a man in quick time.

But Fosh-bal-soj was of no mind to die passively. He clawed and
struck at Bradley while with his great wings he attempted to
shield himself from the merciless rain of blows, at the same time
searching for a hold upon his antagonist's throat. Presently he
succeeded in tripping the Englishman, and together the two fell
heavily to the floor, Bradley underneath, and at the same instant
the Wieroo fastened his long talons about the other's windpipe.

Fosh-bal-soj was possessed of enormous strength and he was
fighting for his life. The Englishman soon realized that the
battle was going against him. Already his lungs were pounding
painfully for air as he reached for his pistol. It was with
difficulty that he drew it from its holster, and even then, with
death staring him in the face, he thought of his precious ammunition.
"Can't waste it," he thought; and slipping his fingers to the
barrel he raised the weapon and struck Fosh-bal-soj a terrific
blow between the eyes. Instantly the clawlike fingers released
their hold, and the creature sank limply to the floor beside
Bradley, who lay for several minutes gasping painfully in an
effort to regain his breath.

When he was able, he rose, and leaned close over the Wieroo,
lying silent and motionless, his wings dropping limply and his
great, round eyes staring blankly toward the ceiling. A brief
examination convinced Bradley that the thing was dead, and with
the conviction came an overwhelming sense of the dangers which
must now confront him; but how was he to escape?