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"The

swine!" he

roared.

"The

filthy,

unsportsmanly,

dog-eating

Prussian

swine!

They're

turning

MACHINE-GUNS

on him!"In

place of

the

intermittent

rattle of

rifleshots

now came

the

purring

cough of

rapidfire

guns. The

bullets

hit the

upper

hillside

in

swathes,

beginning

a few

yards

behind the

flying

collie and

moving

upward

toward him

like a

sweeping

of an

unseen

scythe.

"That's

the

wind-up!"

groaned

Mahan.

"Lord,