Knight held his breath as he discovered the two men were staring at each other fixedly. He was positive that Daniels had overheard, or had guessed their plan.
Kinsty slowly leaned back and commenced swinging the long barrel of his gun toward the fire. Then with breath-taking quickness the squatting figure straightened out and was flying through the flames to land on Kinsty before the latter could straighten out his legs. Kinsty’s rifle went off, the bullet passing close to Knight’s head and causing him to cry out wildly.
“Hit him!” gasped Kinsty.
Knight moved around the fire, but the interlocked figures were rolling and twisting so rapidly he had no opportunity to land a blow without running the risk of hitting the wrong man. He shuddered as he caught the flash of the firelight on two knife blades. Each man had drawn his long butcher-knife, and they grunted loudly as they endeavored to give mortal wounds. They revolved, a blur of arms and legs, out of the zone of light and crashed into the edge of the growth. Then sounded a loud groan.
Knight came out of his stupor and sprang to the rifles and snatched up Kinsty’s weapon and stood desperately at bay as a figure emerged from the darkness.
With gaping mouth he leaned forward to discover which had survived the terrible duel. The figure entered the light. It was Daniels.
“You’ve killed him!” yelled Knight. “Put up your hands! Drop that knife!”
The man threw the knife to the ground and picked up a burning faggot. Then he commanded:
“Follow me and take a peek at your friend, who was so cur’ous to see my back.” Waving the torch to keep it alive he strode to the edge of the growth. Knight followed, the rifle cocked. Swinging the torch down in a half circle the man invited, “Take a look. What d’ye see?”
The two had torn the clothing almost from each other in their desperate fight. Kinsty, with his hunting-shirt ripped from hem to collar, was lying on his face. A red stripe extended the length of his spine.