He was desperate and frantic, for there was something awfully horrifying in the steady manner in which that knife was forced nearer and nearer.
Cold sweat started out all over him, and he panted for breath, while it seemed that his madly leaping heart would burst from his bosom.
He could see two glaring eyes that seemed to shine with a baleful light of their own in the darkness. He could see the writhing features of a ghastly face, and he could hear the creature grate his teeth.
Nearer and nearer came the blade.
Crying and panting, the one whom Frank had attempted to save got upon his feet, swayed a bit, and then steadied himself with a great effort.
“You shall not do it—you shall not!” he gasped.
Then he flung himself on the man, seeking to drag him from the prostrate lad.
Frank saw that the time had come to make a last effort for the mastery, and so, aided by the other, he succeeded in forcing his opponent back enough so he could squirm out from beneath.
In a moment Frank gained his feet, and then, as the man with the knife came up, out shot the fist of the young athlete.
Smack!