saw Awi Agwa's muscles bulge and strain, saw him rally his remaining strength for a supreme effort, saw that effort fail.
It was a heroic, a heart-breaking effort. Never before in all the years of his kingship had Awi Agwa given ground before a rival bull. He could not realize that he must give ground now. With all the strength that was left to him he struggled against fate.
But at last came the inevitable. For a longer time than Almayne had believed possible the wounded bull held his own; then slowly, foot by foot, he was forced back. More desperately than ever he strained and struggled, but he could not check his adversary's slow, relentless advance.
Almayne knew that now the end was near. Awi Agwa was too far spent to escape by flight. Within a few minutes the powerful twists and thrusts of his enemy's neck would throw him sideways to be gored to death by the merciless raking stabs of the usurper's horns.
Those horns, slashing and ripping Awi Agwa's flanks, would spoil the giant elk's hide—an elk hide which, because of its astonishing size, would help buy Nunda's stallion. Almayne realized that he could risk no further delay. Again he raised his rifle slowly to draw another bead. Again his sights were lined on the spot above Awi Agwa's heart.
