A string of shots rattled forth in quick succession as pointed tongues of flame leaped from the muzzle of the gun. Another followed immediately and the gunners took their eyes from the sights and anxiously looked for the result of the fusillade. Some of the bullets had found their mark. The great beast was rolling on its back, clawing the air with frantic and convulsive movements, and tearing at its own shoulders and sides. Screams of pain came from its throat. But its struggles did not last long. It lay still save for an occasional moan and quiver, then even these signs of life stopped. “Run! Run for your life!” Stanley shouted to the man. “There may be another one near by. Come this way. There is a ladder at the foot of the cliff.” “I am not afraid,” the man replied. “I came here to fight the demons.” “But your bow is useless; you have only a knife, and that is little more than worthless against such creatures.” “I will come up to you because I want to talk with you. After that I shall return to the crater.” The man started toward them in a leisurely manner. “I never saw such courage before. It borders on recklessness.” “He must be crazy or trying to do away with himself,” Ted said emphatically. “Wonder who he can be?” “The voice sounded familiar. I am sure I have heard it before, often. Do you realize that he saved our lives? The _whiz_ we heard over our heads just as the tiger above us was about to spring was caused by an arrow. He saw our position and knew that it was hopeless, so he shot at the animal and wounded it; that destroyed its aim and it missed us, barely striking the edge of the shelf and falling to the ground. If it hadn’t been for him the brute should have dropped on top of us.” “Well, it was a narrow escape, and I am glad we were able to repay the fellow in kind. But I want to meet him and thank him for his action, anyway.” There was the scraping of the tall pole-ladder against the face of the rock, and a moment later the man’s head and shoulders appeared over the rim of the ledge. The two grasped his hands and helped him up. His face was youthful. Ted and Stanley knew they had seen it somewhere. And his body, while inclined to be slender, was of strong, athletic build. His only article of clothing was a short tunic of a dark color, so tattered that it hung from him in strips and fringes of thread. “You killed the demon,” he said in a voice touched with sadness. “Why did you do it?” “To save you, of course. Your weapon was broken. You had only a sword left. And, anyway, you saved our lives, so we were but repaying an honorable debt,” Stanley said in surprise. “I was not afraid. I am not a coward.” “No one could ever call you a coward after seeing what we saw. But it was only natural that we should see your danger and do what we could to help you out of it. A man armed with only a sword would have small chance against such a large, ferocious beast.”