The struggle seemed to last for hours, in reality it did not last for five minutes, but it was a hot five minutes, and one to be remembered a lifetime. For a few seconds we tugged and heaved at one another, and twice he swung me off my legs into the air, but I hung on and landed on my feet. In vain he tried to sink his nails into my right forearm, but the muscles, hardened by years of fencing, cricket and gymnastics, were as rigid as iron, for although he scratched and scored the skin yet he could make no impression on the arm itself, the nervous fingers of which were nearly buried round his windpipe. I now began to feel I was getting the best of it, besides which, although still animated by the determination to kill, I was becoming cooler and cooler, and watched for any opportunity so that I could profit by it. Again and again he made desperate efforts to throw me off, and after one prolonged, furious struggle, in which I thought my sinews must give way, his feet got caught by a vine and we fell heavily sideways to the ground; when with one tremendous heave I gained the upper hand and drove my right knee into the lower part of his breast-bone. Oh, but it was a glorious feeling of exultation that rushed through my brain as I tightened, if possible, my clutch on his windpipe and, using the leverage of my knee, tugged and tugged again. One more despairing effort made and thwarted convinced me he was beaten as he perceptibly grew weaker and weaker, and although I never relaxed my attention to my own particular quarry I glanced round to see, if possible, how the game was progressing with my comrades, as with the exception of one or two pistol shots everyone had fought mute, and the grim match had been played with tomahawk, knife and hand. The first I spotted was Tim, on his feet, wrestling furiously with a big Maori, and at the same glance saw George glide up and bury his huge knife in the native’s back, who at once relaxed his hold, when Tim, throwing the dead body clear, yelled out: “Mr Dick, where are ye, sor? Oh, holy Jesus, where’s the master?” Jack I could also see kneeling in the stunted fern evidently top dog, for I caught the flash of his swinging tomahawk and heard the crushing thud as the blow descended. I could also hear the grunts and deep sobbing gasps and see the fern trembling where men still fought in their death struggles, but I had now no anxiety for the future as we had at least three hale men on their feet and temporarily out of employment, so I started in to finish off my man. My man was by now almost passive, so much so indeed that I could have easily drawn my knife with my left hand, but somehow the thought of sticking a man like a pig revolted me. No; it had been up to now a fair fought fight, hand against hand, so let the hand finish it; nor did he require much more attention, as after one or two convulsive heaves he lay quite quiet and I knew I had finished him.