We could see the bullets hit somewhere near the fugitive, for he seemed disconcerted and turned toward the northern end of the pond, to run in that direction; he was now outlined on the crest of the hill. We heard another shot ring out--a shot sharp, staccato it was; and we then emitted a yell, for we knew by it that Oakes was alive. Maloney fired again, and again Elliott, by our side, tried two more long shots with his revolver. We heard Oakes's voice, clear and firm it came, wafted across the pond. "Don't shoot again. He has no more ammunition. I will get him." And Elliott, in suppressed excitement, exclaimed: "He was drawing Maloney's fire all the time. He was not wounded." "Yes, he knew Maloney had the old six-shooter, and he knows it is empty now." "That Oakes keeps everything in mind," said Larkin. "He is a good one." Then we saw the figures of the runners skirting the northern end of the pond. Hallen was leading. He fired at Maloney, evidently not having understood Oakes's word, and again came that clear voice across the pond. "Don't fire, Hallen; remember, he is a lunatic and he can't get away now." We saw Oakes rush to close in on Maloney, but the latter met his attack, and the detective was borne to the ground heavily. "Shoot, Oakes, shoot!" I yelled, as did Hallen; but Quintus responded not. We saw that the fight was furious, but were unable at first to distinguish the figures as they remained on the ground. They were locked in one another's embrace in a deadly, awe-inspiring struggle. Then across one man's neck we saw a forearm--the cuff was shining in the sunlight--and Elliott cried out: "That is Oakes." The two rose to their feet, powerful black objects, and by the outline we recognized the tall figure of our friend as they swayed and surged, gradually slipping and sliding down the incline, toward the deep waters of the pond below. "Oakes has got him," cried Larkin, "choking him. Look at them!" We saw the murderer's body arch sideways and backward, with Oakes's hands around his neck. As Maloney's body came down, down to the ground again, Larkin and Elliott by my side shouted in admiration at the power and skill displayed. Suddenly like a flash the maniac turned, twisted, and next moment encircled Oakes's body with both his arms, and rolled toward the water with him. "He is going to drown Oakes--see!" The words came in a hurried gasp from Elliott, who was throwing off his coat and his shoes in a movement quick as the thought that had come to him. "He's too good a man," he cried, and with a sudden rush Elliott was at the water's edge and into the pond--swimming with strong overhanded strokes, head low and sideways, toward the opposite shore. Larkin and I could scarcely believe our eyes. The man was apparently gifted with great powers, for he cut through the water steadily, surely, with a rapidity that was amazing. Over opposite, the fight was furious, always nearing the edge of the pond.