He knew there was no way of escape.
"I--I had to do it! My God, Captain, I had to do it!"
"Why?"
"I had to, I tell you. Oh, you devil, you fiend! I 'm not the one you
're after--it's Murphy!"
For a single moment Hampton stared at the cringing figure. Then
suddenly he rose to his feet in decision. "Stand up! Lift your hands
first, you fool. Now unbuckle your gun-belt with your left hand--your
left, I said! Drop it on the floor."
There was an unusual sound behind, such as a rat might have made, and
Hampton glanced aside apprehensively. In that single second Slavin was
upon him, grasping his pistol-arm at the wrist, and striving with hairy
hand to get a death-grip about his throat. Twice Hampton's left drove
straight out into that red, gloating face, and then the giant's
crushing weight bore him backward. He fought savagely, silently, his
slender figure like steel, but Slavin got his grip at last, and with
giant strength began to crunch his victim within his vise-like arms.
There was a moment of superhuman strain, their breathing mere sobs of
exhaustion. Then Slavin slipped, and Hampton succeeded in wriggling
partially free from his death-grip.
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