Like an avenging demon, the horned monster thundered after him. It ripped open his fallen steed in passing, and then bore down on him with tremendous speed. He attempted to rise, but had evidently been injured by his fall, as he sank back helplessly to his elbows. Seeing the plight of the fallen chieftain, Tam bounded forward, directly in the path of the charging beast. As it came up to him he leaped to the left, and brought down his tulwar with every bit of strength and skill at his command, aiming at the deep cut which he had previously made in the skull.
The weapon struck true, and this time penetrated to twice the depth it had attained before.
As the beast hurtled past him, the blade snapped off at the hilt, but it was obvious that this time the tulwar had done its work. The monster stopped—attempted to whirl toward Tam. But it moved slowly—its three-toed feet dragging. For a moment it stood on wobbly, uncertain legs. Then it listed like a foundered ship, and fell over on its side, dead.
Flinging away the useless hilt of his tulwar, Tam went over and helped the injured red giant to rise. For a moment the chieftain leaned on his shoulder, steadying himself, while his warriors gathered solicitously around.
"By the seven great names!" exclaimed the officer, grinning down at Tam. "That was a powerful blow. I owe you my life."
"And I owe you mine," replied Tam, "so we are even. Had you not arrived when you did, this monster would have gotten the better of me."
One of the warriors had, meanwhile, been tugging at Tam's blade, imbedded in the skull. Presently it came away, and he peered at the wound for an instant.
"Indeed, my lord," he said, addressing the chieftain, "it was truly a marvelous cut, for it sheared clear through the brain! It was a stroke of which Brahm, himself, might have been proud."
"Through the brain, say you?" exclaimed the chieftain. "Why, that's unheard of. To even reach the brain is a feat for our strongest, and this seldom done. Who are you, Aryan, and what do you here in Brahmavarta?"