Nearer and nearer the old man came. Swifter and swifter grew his pace, for he saw that no one suspected his approach. He reached the end of the cave and crouched for one moment. He heard a voice:
“Hang it! there ain’t a thing in hyar!”
The old man straightened himself up. He raised his knife on high and extended it. Stretching out his long, hairy arm, he could almost touch the back of his victim. One spring would do it all.
One spring!
The old man nerved himself, gathered his muscles for the leap. His eager hand was trembling. His breath, so hot and fast, stopped for one moment. His knife flashed in the lamplight.
And at that instant poor Indian turned and saw his deadly peril. His eyes seemed to glaze with horror. He sprang back from the door with one shrill scream of fright. And the maniac leaped forward with the swiftness of a panther.
It was not at Indian he leaped.
It was at the door! He flung all his weight against it. The next instant the heavy barrier swung to and shut with an iron clang that echoed down the silent cave.
Trapped!