The man who had opened his breach, becoming reckless, at once plunged through, knife in hand. It was Jack Dark, the ferryman.
His recklessness and eagerness proved his death. Met half-way in the narrow gap by Walter, he had no time to turn, no time to strike or defend himself.
The glistening steel flashed in the air; the sturdy arm descended, and with the blood spirting from his heart, Dark fell limp and lifeless in his own gap, completely obstructing it.
Walter drew the reeking blade from the body, and was about to wield another blow, when a faint shriek came to his ears—the voice of Katie.
Like lightning he turned toward her. She was crouching behind the log, partially upright, pointing with white face to another part of the barrier.
Walter followed her gaze, and saw a robber half through the vines.
He darted toward him.
The other saw him coming, and endeavored to spring through, but his foot was fast in the vine. Then he endeavored to draw back; but too late.
Once more the steel flashed in mid-air, and the terror-stricken bandit, looking up, saw it descend like a flash. The next moment, he was a corpse.
“Four men down!” shrieked Downing, now completely frenzied. “Kill him—kill him!”