Then it came. He had worked himself into a crouch. Like a snake uncoiling he straightened out. His body shot into the air. At the moment a shrill cackling back of me broke upon my ears and by instinct I half turned in the thought that the old landlord was threatening me from the rear. I saw over my shoulder that he had the broken chair in his hand, ready to bring it down upon my head. “Don’t kill him!” It was the deep growl of Pierre. “He is to be taken alive!” The chair fell from the old man’s grasp to the floor. At the same time I jumped to the rear with the intention of avoiding Pierre’s outstretched claws. The chair was in my path. With a swoop I picked it up and with a swing I sent it crashing into my assailant’s face. In the next instant the air was filled with a roar like the bellowing of a hundred bulls. Pierre clapped his hand over his wounded nose and forehead. Through his fingers I saw that I had drawn the blood. He was blinded for the moment. Then he shook with mounting rage. He shot one glance at me. I am sure that all the trouble which I had caused him during the past few days flashed through his brain at once. He shifted his knife from the one hand to the other. He poised it for a second in the palm. Then with a dexterity that surprised me he sent it flying point outward towards my chest. It came like a small arrow and with the speed of a drop of rain. It was fortunate that I was bobbing from side to side for I should never have had the quickness to dodge out of harm’s way. As it was, it passed over my shoulder but the point of it nicked a little wound in my flesh that sent a tiny stream of warmth trickling down my arm. We were now on more even terms. I had my dagger still, but he was without a weapon save the great strength of his huge body. But at that I think he would have risked his life against a dozen men for his fury had gathered like a brewing storm. He crooked his elbow over his face and came at me on the run. He groped with his outstretched hand hoping to gather me in, like a man feeling his way in the dark. I yielded before him. I backed off once more around the table and had come so far that he was on one side and I on the other. He planted his big hands flat on the surface. The sweat was running off the end of his nose mingling with the blood and his breath came in pants from the strain of his exertions. “Catch me if you can,” I called, laughing. At the same time I danced back on the balls of my feet to draw him on.