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Updated: July 19, 2025
And as he choked Bolgani and strained him away, his other hand crept slowly upward between them until the point of the hunting knife rested over the savage heart there was a quick movement of the steel-thewed wrist and the blade plunged to its goal.
"He held a man of mine. I have the man." Merely to speak first was insolence; but that breach of etiquette was nothing to his manner and his voice. It appeared that he was so utterly confident of his own prowess that he could afford to speak casually; he did not raise his voice or emphasize a word. He was a man of his word, relating facts, and every line of his steel-thewed anatomy showed it.
The great shoulders worked like pistons, the whole massive body was level as the flowing floor beneath, the steel-thewed limbs reached and doubled reached and doubled with wonderful power and precision. And then at last Tharon knew knew that El Rey was gaining, slowly, steadily, surely. The splendid bay horse was running magnificently, but El Rey ran like a super-horse.
The exclamation of surprise that almost burst from his lips was throttled in his throat by steel-thewed fingers that closed about his windpipe with the suddenness of thought. The black struggled to arise to turn upon the creature that had seized him to wriggle from its hold; but all to no purpose. As he had been held in a mighty vise of iron he could not move. He could not scream.
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