At first he was unconscious of my presence. Gently I tried to remove the left hand from his forehead, but at the touch, out struck the right hand in vicious thrusts of the hunting-knife, one blind cut barely missing my arm.
"Hold, man!" I cried, "I'm no foe, but a friend!" and I caught the right arm tightly.
At the sound of my voice, the left hand swung out revealing a frightful gash; and the next thing I knew, his left arm had encircled my neck like the coil of a strangler, five fingers were digging into the flesh of my throat and Le Grand Diable was making frantic efforts to free his right hand and plunge that dagger into me. The shock of the discovery threw me off guard, and for a moment there was a struggle, but only for a moment. Then the wounded man fell back, writhing in pain, his face contorted with agony and hate. I do not think he could see me. He must have been blind from that wound. I stood back, but his knife still cut the air.
"Le Grand Diable! Fool!" I said, "I will not harm you! I give you the white man's word, I will not hurt you!"
The right arm fell limp and still. Had I, by some strange irony, been led to this spot that I might witness the death of my foe? Was this the end of that long career of evil?
"Le Grand Diable!" I cried, going a pace nearer, which seemed to bring back the ebbing life. "Le Grand Diable! You cannot stay here among the wolves. Tell me whereto find Miriam and I'll take you back to the camp! Tell me and no one shall harm you! I will save you!"
The thin lips moved. He was saying, or trying to say, something.
"Speak louder!" and I bent over him. "Speak the truth and I take you to the camp!"
The lips were still moving, but I could not hear a sound.
"Speak louder!" I shouted. "Where is Miriam? Where is the white woman?" I put my ear to his lips, fearful that life might slip away before I could hear.