CHAPTER XXI
Godwin the gorilla bethought himself of the four men remaining under the sail. He turned about and saw the fire, which was now licking up fiercely.
"God defend the right!" he gasped. "Here's a rare hazard!"
Two men had succeeded in freeing themselves from the smothering confines of the sail. They came at him warily, side-stepping the flames, their curved Damascus blades at the ready.
"Beast or Satan," shouted one, "prepare to perish!"
"Ho ho," said Godwin throatily in Arabic, "you'll have to back that threat with action, little man!"
The fellow halted, turned a sickly green hue, and buckling at all his joints pitched over in a dead faint.
The other was affected in quite another fashion, and leaped toward Godwin, scimitar flashing.
Godwin yanked out his long sword and batted down the first attack. The Saracen was a swift and elusive fencer. His point darted through Godwin's guard and slashed a long wound down the biceps of his left arm, laying bare the dark flesh for a moment before red gore covered it and trickled out through the fur.
Godwin yelled and swung his weapon in an arc, knocking off the other's helmet and inflicting a nasty gash across his scalp.