other's motive, and raising his bull whip struck Number
Thirteen a vicious cut across the face, at the same time
levelling his revolver point blank at the broad beast.
But before ever he could pull the trigger an avalanche
of muscle was upon him, and he went down to the rotting
vegetation of the jungle with five sinewy fingers at his throat.

His revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and then
another hand wrenched it from him and hurled it far
into the underbrush. Number Thirteen knew nothing of
the danger of firearms, but the noise had startled him
and his experience with the stinging cut of the bull
whip convinced him that this other was some sort of
instrument of torture of which it would be as well to
deprive his antagonist.

Virginia Maxon looked on in horror as she realized that
her rescuer was quickly choking Dr. von Horn to death.
With a little cry she sprang to her feet and ran toward them,
just as her father emerged from the underbrush through
which he had been struggling in the trail of the agile
Chinaman and von Horn. Placing her hand upon the great
wrist of the giant she tried to drag his fingers from
von Horn's throat, pleading meanwhile with both voice
and eyes for the life of the man she thought loved her.

Again Number Thirteen translated the intent without
understanding the words, and releasing von Horn
permitted him to rise. With a bound he was upon his
feet and at the same instant brought his other gun from