Again the bandit made a thrust. At the moment Cody flung his body forward, and his left hand clutched a tree-branch which overhung the river. At last he had a stable hold upon terra firma. With a shout he dragged himself in toward the bank, and, in turn, lunged at his antagonist. So unexpected was the blow that he came near catching Bennett in a vital spot. As it was, the point of the scout’s bowie slit his enemy’s sleeve from wrist to elbow and brought the blood beneath! “You devil!” yelled Bennett, leaping back, smarting with pain. It was just the chance Cody wished. He bounded out upon the rocky shore. His own war-cry resounded through the island. All his weakness dropped from him like a garment. At last he was before his foe, and they were evenly matched--man to man and blade to blade! “Guard yourself, you scoundrel!” cried Buffalo Bill, the Border King. “It is war to the knife, and the knife to the hilt, as you yourself have said. Your life or mine--which is the better man! One of us, Boyd Bennett, shall never leave this spot alive!” CHAPTER XLVI. AND THE KNIFE TO THE HILT. All the time Buffalo Bill had been standing in the shallow water parleying with his enemy, he had been regaining his breath and his strength, both sadly depleted by his swim across the river. Now he had leaped ashore almost as fresh and strong as Bennett himself. His leaping ashore had quite startled the bandit; but he did not give back after his first cry of surprise and pain. He, too, was armed with a bowie. They were indeed equal, and the bandit was no physical coward. Colonel James Bowie, of Texas, invented a terrible weapon of defense and offense when he gave the world the heavy hunting-knife which bears his name. It is a long, slightly curved blade, having a razor-sharp two-edged point and a heavy back. It is fitted with a handle and guard, and is always carried in a sheath. It can be thrown with great precision by the old-time “knife-fighter”; but it is at close quarters that the true wickedness of the weapon comes to light. In a fight with these knives death must surely result--many times to both antagonists; surely to one. One stroke does it; there is no need of a second if the first really gets home. A strong blow would sever a man’s head from his body! Both the scout and Boyd Bennett were familiar with the use of the great knife. Facing each other, left foot forward, stooping slightly, they circled about each other like two cocks looking for a chance to strike. The men’s eyes were fastened upon each other, like the eyes of pugilists. In the expanding and contracting of the eyeball they saw the intent of their antagonist to make a move. Crouching, the two shifted about on the rocks. The ground was not good for such cautious work; but one did not know it better than the other. It was as fair to Bennett as to the scout.