As a last trial the fellow dug his knees into my sides and held them there. I felt the breath leaving me. Then with an effort that took all my strength I jerked myself loose and turned over on my back. The danger now was even greater for my opponent than it was for me. Although I was down, yet I had a freer swing for my weapon. If I had thought in time I could have slashed him on the legs and probably cut him across the arm. But he saw what was coming. He stood up and backed away and in the same moment, with what was left of me, I, too, got hastily to my feet.
In the next second it was all over. A form came hurtling through the air. I felt the breeze of the passing body fan my cheeks. It was the scrivener who had gotten once more upon the table. He must have been on the alert for such an opportunity. He caught my fellow, as he had done the other. His feet struck him a dull blow full on the chest. As though he were a sack of meal he gave a low groan and crumpled together against the wall.
I stood for a moment with my mouth open, gasping for breath. I was anxious, too, about the first fellow whom the scrivener had knocked senseless against the wall. He was slowly opening his eyes and made a move as though he would rise. His hands were behind him. He twisted and pulled to bring them forward. Then it dawned on me that while I was deep in the struggle, the scrivener had tied them securely behind his back.
I felt a clap on my shoulder. There stood the scrivener with his eyes shining. His head was darting from side to side like a bird’s. He danced a few steps on the hard floor and to my surprise leaned over and turned a handspring as smoothly as you please.
“You’re a grand fighter, lad,” he cried. “A grand fighter.” He held out his hand and grasped mine. “And to think I don’t even know your name.”
I took the hint.
“It’s Henri,” I said. “Henri La Mar.”
“Well, Henri,” he answered, “we’ll get along fine together, you and I.” He looked me over and felt of the muscles of my arm. “The makings of a man,” he muttered. “I’ll make the greatest highwayman of you that ever lived.”
I was stopped for an answer.
“I’m not so sure that I want to be one,” I replied, but with a smile that I would not anger him. “It’s a dangerous calling.”