'Look! look!' I was calling in agony, and pointing; 'for heaven's sake,
look! Baptiste!'
The fingers had closed upon the knife, the knife was already high in
the air, when, with a shriek, Baptiste cleared the room at a bound, and,
before the knife could fall, the little Frenchman's boot had caught the
uplifted wrist, and sent the knife flying to the wall.
Then there was a great rushing sound as of wind through the forest, and
the lights went out. When I awoke, I found myself lying with my head on
Graeme's knees, and Baptiste sprinkling snow on my face. As I looked up
Graeme leaned over me, and, smiling down into my eyes, he said--
'Good boy! It was a great fight, and we put it up well'; and then he
whispered, 'I owe you my life, my boy.'
His words thrilled my heart through and through, for I loved him as only
men can love men; but I only answered--
'I could not keep them back.'
'It was well done,' he said; and I felt proud. I confess I was thankful
to be so well out of it, for Graeme got off with a bone in his wrist
broken, and I with a couple of ribs cracked; but had it not been for the
open barrel of whisky which kept them occupied for a time, offering too
good a chance to be lost, and for the timely arrival of Nelson, neither
of us had ever seen the light again.
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