'Silence!' he commanded sternly, placing his back against the door and pushing it to with a bang. 'Not a word, or I will kill you.'
Utter astonishment was written on the man's face; the soft rays of the swaying lantern falling on his features showed that he was entirely taken aback. The corners of his mouth drooped suddenly, his eyes started forward, while his fingers clutched at his clothing. But it was only for a moment. An apparently unarmed man stood before him, the youth whom he had so lately helped to capture. Promptly his hand sought his revolver.
'Dog! It is you, then? You are my prisoner.'
The revolver was more than half out of the girdle by now, and in another second would be at David's head; but the latter was watching the Tartar like a cat. His sharp eyes caught every movement, and at once, with a swift movement, he was on the man. His right arm went back quickly, and then jerked out like a flash, the fist striking the Tartar hard and full between the eyes. The result of this telling blow, so far as the Chinese rascal was concerned, was disastrous. He was knocked clear from his feet, for the youth who had struck was no chicken. David had weight and strength behind his arm, and, moreover, a desperate man finds added strength on such occasions. The blow, in fact, tossed the Tartar backward, causing him to perform a half sommersault, and to come to the ground with an alarming crash, his head being the first portion of his anatomy to come in contact with the stone flagging. And in a second David was on him, gripping him by the neck.
"IN A SECOND DAVID WAS ON HIM"
'Silence! Not a word,' he repeated, while his hand went to the man's revolver and drew it from his girdle. But the Tartar did not wince when the cold muzzle was thrust in his ear. He lay inert, his eyes closed, as listless as a sleeping baby.