As I stepped it out there was a rush at me from the grass, behind and to
my left. Down I dropped full length, and a man shot over me and sprawled
in the road, but he was quick and lithe as a cat, and was up before me,
for my slung arm disadvantaged me. I could just see his sword poised for a
cut as he fairly pounced on me. I dived outward as he jumped, and he
missed me, but before I could get behind him he was round and at me again
like a fury. I was weaponless and crippled, but if I could once get past
his sword, it would be all over with him. The pace was so hot, and my mind
was so bent on the work, that I did not call for aid. At last I tricked
him, for in jumping aside I flung my hat hard in his face, and in a flash
had my right hand at his throat. He jabbed at me with his left, and I
twisted round to his right side, pressing his sword-arm against his body,
and digging my fingers into his windpipe. I heard his sword drop, and felt
him feeling for a pistol. He was as hard as a nail, and I began to dream
that he would get me before I had choked him.
Donald ended the matter. He, doglike in his fidelity, came striding down
the road after me.
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