In a blind way he had stopped the second blow, and, realizing this instantly, he held on for dear life.
“No, ye don’t,” snarled the man, as he tried to wrench away. “I’ve got ye, and I’ll fix ye!”
Frank held on, although the pressure of those fingers on his throat was awful to endure, and it seemed that colored fires were bursting in his brain. Black shadows and bright lights flitted before him, and, through a haze as of blood and smoke, he caught glimpses of the fiendish face of the mad engineer. The eyes of the man seemed to pierce him like knives.
Then, with his other hand, Frank tore at the fingers which were shutting off his wind and robbing him of strength and reason. He pulled those fingers up till he could get one gasping breath, and then they seemed to close down tighter than ever.
The agony was awful, but through it all Frank tried to keep his wits, and he succeeded.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the engineer.
That laugh sounded far away, but it was full of dreadful meaning. It was the laugh of a murderous maniac.
It seemed that old Joe had gone crazy in one instant, and surely he had the strength of a madman.
“I’ll kill ye!” grated the man, triumphantly. “I’ll tell them how ye attacked me, and I was forced to do it.”
Frank set his fingers around the wrist of the man, turned his head to one side, and made a last desperate wrench.