forced himself to laugh exultantly

  He must kill the boss! He must kill the boss!   It ran through his head like a threat--a dirge. His aim wavered. Bullet after bullet sped harmlessly about Torrance. A cold sweat broke out on the Pole. He leaned out to order others into the surrounding trees--but realised as he glowered into their upturned faces that this was no time for orders, but for action.   He reported a hit--boasted, shouted, forced himself to laugh exultantly.   Where would it all end?   He gripped his fists until the nails bit into his palms, and took a fresh hold of himself. With set teeth, steadier than he had ever been, he thrust the rifle out again along the branch.   At that instant Werner clambered up the grade--and close behind him Morani.   Koppy gasped. A flash of pride at the unexpected temerity of two of his lieutenants. But it faded swiftly before two driving fears. Torrance had risen to meet them; and Koppy knew the force of that great fist. But if his own men won! Koppy had a vision of vanished glory--of lost leadership. Morani and Werner had taken their lives in their hands to accomplish that which he was failing to do from the protection of a tree.   Snapping his teeth together, he put his eye coolly to the rear sight. If his own men were in the way--well, that was their lookout. He was aiming at Torrance.   A hush fell over the forest. From the foot of the tree the bohunks read crucial drama in Koppy's manner. . . .