With a bound Warren rushed at Nelatu, who, suddenly dropping his rifle, grappled with him.
A terrible struggle ensued.
The young men were about equally matched in size and strength, while each knew that it was a contest for life or death.
Warren, by his unexpected onset, had at first some advantage over his antagonist; but the Indian speedily recovered it by his great power of endurance.
All feeling of pity had vanished from his breast. He had intended to take him a prisoner; he would now kill him.
He made several unsuccessful efforts to draw his tomahawk; whilst Warren, inspired by the certainty that death would be the result, strove to his utmost to prevent him from wielding the weapon.
Long did they continue the struggle without either speaking a word. Their heavy breathing, as they rolled over and over on the grass, was the only audible sound.
Nelatu at length succeeded in getting his antagonist under him, and with one arm strove to hold him, whilst with the other he groped for his tomahawk.
At this moment Warren made a superhuman effort, threw the Indian off, and, with the speed of lightning, snatched his rifle from the ground.
Nelatu had stumbled as he was thrown off, and lay sprawling upon the earth.