Though he had
searched, there was nothing in sight even faintly resembling a weapon.
In a last desperate bid for freedom he crept back to the stairwell.
He had been taught a blow during his training period, one which required
a precise delivery and, he had been warned, was often fatal. He would
use it now. The climber was very close. A cropped head arose through the
floor opening, and Ross struck, knowing as his hand chopped against the
folds of a fur hood that he had failed.
But the impetus of that unexpected blow saved him after all. With a
choked cry the man disappeared, crashing down upon the one following
him. A scream and shouts were heard from below, and a shot ripped up the
well as Ross scrambled away from it. He might have delayed the final
battle, but they had him cornered. He faced that fact bleakly. They need
only sit below and let nature take its course. His session in the
lifeboat had restored his strength, but a man could not live forever
without food and water.
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