“A dog you are, and a dog’s death you shall die!”
Cody stooped a little now so as to appear still to be in deep water. But he had gained considerable. The fellow’s rage and excitement made him overlook this cunning.
“A chance; just a foothold on the bank—for God’s sake!” cried Cody.
“Not much; I won’t! You die where you are—or drown!”
Boyd Bennett stooped, and holding his own bowie with grim clutch, made a pass at the scout. The latter dodged—and made another foot.
“Give me a show!” cried the man in the water, apparently at his last gasp.
“No, no! I’ll have your life—and now!”
Again the bandit made a thrust. At the moment Cody flung his body forward, and his left hand clutched a tree-branch which overhung the river. At last he had a stable hold upon terra firma. With a shout he dragged himself in toward the bank, and, in turn, lunged at his antagonist. So unexpected was the blow that he came near catching Bennett in a vital spot. As it was, the point of the scout’s bowie slit his enemy’s sleeve from wrist to elbow and brought the blood beneath!
“You devil!” yelled Bennett, leaping back, smarting with pain.
It was just the chance Cody wished. He bounded out upon the rocky shore. His own war-cry resounded through the island. All his weakness dropped from him like a garment. At last he was before his foe, and they were evenly matched—man to man and blade to blade!