Well—I leaped just as he was raising his weapon, whatever it was, and as I leaped I gave a little nervous laugh of excitement. He had not seen me, and he was startled, and dropped his weapon, which clattered on the deck. I seized him about the body, pinning his elbows to his sides; but he was larger and stronger than I was, and partially freed them. I felt a warm sting in my hip, and knew that he had used his knife. Then I got thoroughly mad. When I was in that condition I felt nothing, blows, knife thrusts, or anything else. It is a curious phenomenon, and I suppose not peculiar to myself, that in such a situation, when my rage is once completely aroused—it never took much to rouse it—I seemed to lose all sense of pain, all feeling. It was always so with me, even as a very small boy. I attacked Lupo in a fury with hands and feet and teeth. What he did to me I did not know.
The fight did not last long. Suddenly he went down; inexplicably to me until my vision cleared, and I saw Lupo lying at full length on the deck, and the Prince stooping over him, holding a mincing-knife at his throat like the knife of a guillotine. I fully expected to see him beheaded on the instant. I wanted to see his head roll away, and blood spurting from his neck.
“You move,” whispered the Prince, “and—”
Lupo heard the whisper, and he did not move, for the edge of the knife was in contact with his throat. Then others came, and the Prince rose to his feet, laid down his mincing-knife quietly, and came and stood by me, while Lupo was led away.
“You hurt, Tim?” asked the Prince. “He knife you?”
I laughed a little nervously. The sense of feeling had not come back completely.
“I guess so,” I answered, “but I don’t feel it.”
“Le ’s see,” he said. He took up a lantern and looked me over. Lupo’s knife had found only certain soft portions of my anatomy, and those far from any vital part.
The Prince laughed. “I see. All right. No harm, but you not sit down much for a while. Better go to the old man and get fixed up, though. Good boy, Tim! Great boy! You make good fight. Tony won’t forget. He won’t forget.”
All this time he was patting my shoulder. Then, as I did not move, he led me aft, keeping his hand on my shoulder.