Godfrey noiselessly pushed down his blanket, gathered his feet up in readiness for a spring, and grasped one of his shoes, which as usual he had placed behind the clothes-bag that served as his pillow. Several of the sleepers were snoring loudly, and intently as he listened he heard no footfall. In a few seconds, however, a dark figure arose against the wall at the foot of the bench; it stood there immovable for half a minute and then leaned over Mikail, placing one hand on the wall as if to enable him to stretch as far over as possible without touching the sleeper. Godfrey waited no longer but brought the shoe down with all his force on the man's head, and then threw himself upon him pinning him down for a moment upon the top of Mikail. The latter woke with a shout of surprise followed by a sharp cry of pain. Godfrey clung to the man, who, as with a great effort he rose, dragged him from the bed, and the two rolled on the ground together. Mikail's shout had awakened the whole ward and a sudden din arose. Mikail leapt from the bench and as he did so fell over the struggling figures on the ground.
"Get hold of his hands, Mikail," Godfrey shouted, "he has got a knife and I can't hold him."
But in the dark it was some time before the starosta could make out the figures on the floor. Suddenly Godfrey felt Mikail's hand on his throat.
"That's me," he gasped. The hand was removed and a moment later he felt the struggles of his adversary cease, and there was a choking sound.
"That is right, Mikail, but don't kill him," he said.
At this moment the door at the end of the ward opened and two of the guard ran in with lanterns. They shouted orders to the convicts to keep their places on the benches.
"This way," Mikail called, "there has been attempted murder, I believe."
The guards came up with the lanterns.
"What has happened to him?" one of them said, bending over the man who was lying insensible on the ground.
"He is short of wind," Mikail said, "that is all that ails him; I had to choke him off."