Scarcely had his hideous laugh rang out but once, when I was upon
him. The brute was twelve feet in height and armed to the teeth,
but I believe that I could have accounted for the whole roomful in
the terrific intensity of my rage. Springing upward, I struck him
full in the face as he turned at my warning cry and then as he drew
his short-sword I drew mine and sprang up again upon his breast,
hooking one leg over the butt of his pistol and grasping one of his
huge tusks with my left hand while I delivered blow after blow upon
his enormous chest.
He could not use his short-sword to advantage because I was too
close to him, nor could he draw his pistol, which he attempted to do
in direct opposition to Martian custom which says that you may not
fight a fellow warrior in private combat with any other than the
weapon with which you are attacked. In fact he could do nothing but
make a wild and futile attempt to dislodge me. With all his immense
bulk he was little if any stronger than I, and it was but the matter
of a moment or two before he sank, bleeding and lifeless, to the
floor.
Dejah Thoris had raised herself upon one elbow and was watching the
battle with wide, staring eyes.
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