Just at this moment Paul and Buster came from their vantage points and reported what they had seen—a kitchen messed up as if hogs had been turned loose, empty cans strewn about the floor, dishes lying on the table, all drawers of the pantry being pulled out and dumped on the floor.
Inside there were no sounds to indicate either the continuance of the fight or a peace contract. Frank lifted his head and looked through the window. Blinky was yet standing at the mantel with the knife in his hand, defensively glaring at Snadder, while the long, thin one had reached in the meanwhile for a carving knife that lay on the dining table. As they watched, Snadder started stealthily forward, intent on getting to Blinky on his tiptoes.
“Better stay ’way from me,” whimpered Blinky. “You come near me and I’ll stick this knife in you.”
But Snadder was undaunted by this, and four youthful pairs of eyes watched the coming of the fray with boyish interest.
Snadder’s hand was upraised, and Frank saw that he held the knife by its point, with the handle downward.
Having gone around the dining table, where the full swing of his arm would not be hindered, they saw a quick movement on the part of the tall man, and the knife swished through the air toward Blinky!
It seemed to be going true to its aim, but Blinky slouched forward a trifle, it seemed an accident, and the point of the carving knife struck squarely in the top plank of the mantel, swaying to and fro!
With that Snadder started to rush forward.
But Blinky had sobered somewhat in that moment, and his right hand moving upward, he hurled the knife at the head of his advancing antagonist.
With a quick dodging motion Snadder got out of the way and the hunting knife came hurtling straight at the head of Frank Allen outside the window!