Gonzalez came back from the corral, carefully testing with his finger the edge and point of his knife. Conrad, his head held high, a smile on his face and exhilaration in his manner, was telling the company to stand a little to one side, to make sure they were out of the way of the knife. As Gonzalez came up, he stepped in front of the nearest tree, with the Mexican facing him ten or twelve paces distant. Judge Banks called to him to watch out for the knife himself, and he turned a smiling face for an instant as he answered gayly, “Oh, I’m all right!” In the same tone he called, “Start her up, José! And remember, you’re to do your level best.”
José’s teeth shone in a gleaming smile as he replied significantly, “I shall, Don Curtis!” He took an alert, graceful posture, one foot set back and head thrust slightly forward. The muscles of his arm were still relaxed as his knife slid along his wrist and nestled into place. Conrad drew himself up tensely and his eyes narrowed as he fixed them upon the Mexican’s. For an instant they eyed each other; then, like a flash, José’s arm swung back.
Not until that moment did any member of the company understand that Curtis was deliberately making himself a target; even then many did not realize the significance of the game with death he had set himself to play. Ned Castleton’s face went white, and his voice died in his throat as he tried to call to José to stop. Alexander Bancroft stared with devouring eyes, his breath coming hard. The overmastering desire for freedom and safety was upon him, and he could not take his gaze from the Mexican’s poised figure. Louise Dent, beside him, drew one gasping breath and covered her face with her hands. Afterward she knew that she had not done this so much to shut from her eyes the next moment’s expected sight as to hide from her soul’s vision the glimpse she had caught of the desire springing to life in her own heart.
“Like a flash José’s arm swung back, ... and Curtis sprang lightly aside as the knife struck deep into the tree”
Homer Conrad, sitting beside Lucy, his attention fixed upon some small damage to her fan which he was trying to repair, did not see what was going on until a sudden stiffening of her attitude and a sharp, indrawn breath made him look up. She was leaning forward, with face white and eyes staring and hands clenched against her breast. He followed her gaze and saw the knife flash from José’s hand. His heart went sick and he sat powerless to move as his eyes marked the long blade, dark against the sunshine, but with little sparkles on its edge, through what seemed an interminable flight.
Then Curtis sprang lightly aside as the knife struck deep into the tree at the level of his throat, pulled the weapon out, waved it at Gonzalez, and called out triumphantly, “Try again, José; and be quicker next time!”
Ned Castleton sprang forward, with Turner close behind, and grasped his arm. “Are you crazy, Curt?” he exclaimed. “This is fool’s play! We don’t want any more of it!”
“There’s no danger,” Conrad replied jauntily. “I knew I could jump quicker than he could throw, and I wanted to prove it to him. There’s not a bit of danger; I can do it every time. But if you don’t like it we’ll have something else. Hello, kid!” he said as Homer rushed up and seized his arm; the young man’s face was pale and tears stood in his eyes. “You’ve no reason to be frightened,” Curtis went on easily. “All I had to do was to watch his eyes. If there had been any real danger I wouldn’t have tried it.”