"Keep back," exclaimed the king. "Keep back."
Rupert paused; then, as though with a sudden thought, he held up
the box that was in his left hand, saying:
'"Well, look at this sire, and we'll talk afterwards," and he
stretched out his hand with the box in it.
Now the king stood on a razor's edge, for the king whispered to
Herbert, "What is it? Go and take it."
But Herbert hesitated, fearing to leave the king, whom his body
now protected as though with a shield. Rupert's impatience
overcame him: if there were a trap, every moment's delay doubled
his danger. With a scornful laugh he exclaimed, "Catch it, then,
if you're afraid to come for it," and he flung the packet to
Herbert or the king, or which of them might chance to catch it.
This insolence had a strange result. In an instant, with a fierce
growl and a mighty bound, Boris was at the stranger's throat.
Rupert had not seen or had not heeded the dog. A startled oath
rang out from him. He snatched the revolver from his belt and
fired at his assailant. This shot must have broken the beast's
shoulder, but it only half arrested his spring. His great weight
was still hurled on Rupert's chest, and bore him back on his
knee.
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