Polter had staggered backward. I saw him a mile or so away. His back at that instant was turned to me. He was now no more than three or four times my own height. He scrambled against the valley cliff wall as though trying to find a foothold to climb up it. He went a little way, but fell back. Near me, Alan and old Dr. Kent suddenly appeared. I was larger than they. Alan gasped with surprise. "You, George! You got Babs--" "Yes--Babs is around somewhere! Stay down here! Don't lose her in size! Stay small! Search and--" "But, George--" "I'll tackle Polter. I've taken--God, I don't know how much I've taken of the drug!" They were shrinking down by my boot tops. Alan shouted suddenly, "There's Babs! Thank God, she's all right." She was so small that I couldn't see her, or even hear her, though she must have been calling to them. Alan again screamed up at me with his little voice: "She's here, George! You--go on and get Polter! I can't overtake you--haven't enough of the drug!" His tiny voice was fading away. "Go and get him, George! This time--get him--" I swung with a staggering step around to face the open valley. It had by now shrunk to nearly half a mile in width. Its smooth walls rose some two or three thousand feet to an upper circular horizon with murky distance overhead. Polter stood across from me. He had tried to climb out but could not. He saw me and came lurching. We were a quarter of a mile from each other. I ran forward through a shifting scene of shrinking rock walls and crawling, contracting ground. Quarter of a mile? It seemed hardly more than a score of running strides before Polter loomed close ahead of me. He was still nearly twice my size. I stooped, seized a loose boulder, and flung it. I missed his face, but, as his hand went up carrying a bare knife, by fortunate chance, the stone struck his wrist. The knife dropped to the rocks. He stooped to recover it, but I was upon him. As I felt his huge arms go about me, half lifting me, my foot struck the knife. But in an instant it was swept down into smallness beneath us as we expanded above it. Both of us now were unarmed in this combat of size. I was an immature youth in Polter's first grip upon me. I heard his panting words, grimly triumphant: "This--George Randolph, I haf been--waiting for so many years! The hunchback--takes his revenge--now--"