Could any strain have been more nerve-destroying?
Any one of the four blades, should it strike a vital spot, would kill him.
But all four were speeding toward him together, so nicely had the bucks gauged their throws.
Yet the bandit was too familiar with the nature of the redman not to know that instead of striking him where death would result, the blades would simply inflict painful flesh wounds, that the red devils might gloat in the sight of his blood and agony.
Every nerve in his body was atingle as he waited for the impact.
Of a sudden, however, he made a terrible discovery.
The knives were coming for his head.
Like a flash, it occurred to him that his eyes and ears were the targets.
A trice he contemplated the possibility of dodging them, for his head was not bound.
But the realization came to him that while he might avoid one of the whistling blades, he could not escape all four, and he decided to make no move.