“And so he might if you hadn’t helped me throw him off. You did it just in time, and I believe you saved my life.”
“Oh, but he had a knife—I could see it! And I knew he would use it. He has such wonderful strength.”
“He is strong.”
“Strong! I do not see how you held him off! But I could see him forcing the knife nearer and nearer, and I grew frantic, for it seemed that you would be killed before my eyes.”
“I was rather anxious myself,” confessed Frank, with something like a laugh.
“It was a nasty position.”
“I don’t know how I dared touch him, but I remember that I did. Then you flung him off and got up. After that, I remember that you were fighting, and I felt sure you could not conquer him. He would get the best of you in the end, and then he’d finish me. I was scared and tried to run away; but I did not go far before I became sick and weak, and—and I don’t remember anything more.”
“You fainted.”
“And you whipped Apollo?”
“Not exactly. I knocked him down a few times, but he seemed to spring to his feet almost as soon as he went down. Then somebody brought a light to a window and he was scared away.”