“Seize him, Chris,” I said in English; and out of the gloom the huge black form sprang at him with a fierce growl. In his consternation the soldier loosed his hold of me to battle with the dog, and in a moment my hand was on his companion’s throat, while I called to the men in the cellars to go to the help of Karasch who was now fighting and struggling with his two guards.
We were six to three, for Chris kept the leader busy; and the desperate struggle in the darkness was soon over. The soldiers fought gamely enough; but they had no chance against such odds. We overpowered them, but it was not until some hard blows had been given and taken on both sides.
I was most afraid for the man whom Chris had attacked; but when I went to him was relieved to find that no serious harm had been done. He was terribly frightened; as well might be, for Chris was an antagonist few men would care to fight. But having got him down the good dog had not mauled him. The soldier lay flat on the ground, with Chris standing guard over him and growling fiercely whenever the man made the slightest movement.
“Call this brute off for God’s sake,” he said, in a frightened voice as I approached, lantern in hand. I was glad to hear him speak.
“It serves you right for the trick you played me,” I answered. “Are you hurt?” and I called Chris away.
“I thought he’d kill me.”
“Wouldn’t have been much loss if he had,” said I, as he sat up and began to feel himself all over.
“I’d like to shoot the brute. What does this all mean?”
“That you’re my prisoner instead of my being yours. If you have any weapons put ’em out—or I’ll let the dog find them.”
He glanced round fearsomely at Chris, who snarled.