As they reached the barricade it
crashed down and, carrying me with it, pinned me fast.
Looking out between the barrels, I saw what froze my heart with horror.
In the fall Graeme had wound his arms about his enemy and held him in
a grip so deadly that he could not strike; but Graeme's strength was
failing, and when I looked I saw that Idaho was slowly dragging both
across the slippery floor to where the knife lay. Nearer and nearer his
outstretched fingers came to the knife. In vain I yelled and struggled.
My voice was lost in the awful din, and the barricade held me fast.
Above me, standing on a barrel-head, was Baptiste, yelling like a demon.
In vain I called to him. My fingers could just reach his foot, and
he heeded not at all my touch. Slowly Idaho was dragging his almost
unconscious victim toward the knife. His fingers were touching the
blade point, when, under a sudden inspiration, I pulled out my penknife,
opened it with my teeth, and drove the blade into Baptiste's foot. With
a blood-curdling yell he sprang down and began dancing round in his
rage, peering among the barrels.
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