Having made this alarming discovery, Don held fast to the hand that gripped the knife, not daring to release it for a moment, as the fear of being stabbed was on him. Up to the moment of finding the knife in the hand of the unknown he had not fancied he was in deadly danger; but now his blood was chilled by the horror of this struggle in the dark with an antagonist desperate enough to use an open knife, and his every energy was bent to the task of wresting the weapon from his foe.
In the midst of this fearful struggle the active brain of the boy pictured a tragic ending for himself. He fancied that his antagonist would wrest his knife-hand free and strike again and again with the keen blade, plunging it to the hilt each time, which must soon bring an end to the struggle. The night would pass, morning come, and then the searchers would find the dead lad there in the blood-bespattered dressing-room. His father and his aunt would grieve, but he wondered how many others would care.
This grewsome fancy seemed to give him tremendous strength, for he slowly forced the fingers of the other to unclasp from the handle of the knife. Once his hand slipped and he felt the blade slash across his fingers, but he did not pause to wonder how badly he was cut. Believing he was now fighting for his life, he lost not a moment.
At last, with a fierce wrench, he forced the knife from the hand of the unknown; but, having bent all his energies in this direction, he had given no attention to the task of holding his foe so he could not escape. With a sudden twist, the fellow flung Don off, then scrambled up.
“Stop!” panted Don; but, giving no heed, the mysterious fellow darted out through the open door and disappeared.
As soon as possible Don sprang up and followed him. Outside the door, he halted in the darkness, looking to the right and to the left, but seeing nothing of his foe.
“He’s run for the gate,” thought the boy, and he made a dash for the exit from the field.
As he reached the gate, he heard a scrambling and knocking sound against the boards of the fence at the farther side of the field, following which, for a single moment, he fancied he saw a dark figure rise to the top of the fence, being dimly discernible against the sky. An instant later the figure was gone, and Don knew his unknown antagonist had made good his escape.
But Don’s bleeding fingers held the knife he had wrested from his mysterious foe.