He thrust his hand to his side, drew out a long, gleaming knife, and with a demoniacal laugh sprang at Sir Arthur, brandishing his weapon.
At the first flash of the steel Guy uttered a shout that might have wakened the seven sleepers, and threw himself across the raft. He fell short of the African, and staggered to his knees with another wild cry.
The glittering blade wavered a second in mid-air, not ten inches from Sir Arthur's heart, and then, his eyes flashing and his face distorted with passion, Bildad turned and threw himself on the man who had thwarted him.
Guy staggered to his feet in time to meet the shock, and they fell together with a crash, the madman on top. As he blindly threw out his arms in self protection he grasped Bildad's wrist, arresting the course of the descending knife. Before the fiend could snatch the knife with the other hand he twisted the brawny wrist till the bone cracked. The knife dropped from the nerveless fingers, and Bildad shrieked with rage and agony. Guy tried to shout, but the savage's uninjured arm clutched his throat, and he felt himself jerked violently along the raft. He struggled and kicked in vain. A mist swam before his eyes, and he felt the agonies of suffocation. With both hands he tore at the brawny arm, but the grip only seemed to tighten, and then he realized that he was on the edge of the raft. He was powerless. He wondered vaguely why the rest did not come to his assistance. He felt his head and shoulders slip over the edge, and then opening his eyes he saw the madman's leering face, flushed with rage and triumph, staring into his own. His eyes closed with a shudder as he seemed to feel the icy waters close over him. Then the grasp on his throat suddenly relaxed, and he knew nothing more.
When Guy opened his eyes some minutes later, and saw with wonder the familiar faces of his friends bending over him, he felt as a man might who had come back from the grave. He tried to rise, but a firm hand pushed him gently back, and the colonel's voice said softly, "No; lie down. Not a word until you are better."
Gradually memory came back as he rested, and he knew why his throat felt so queer. In the firelight he saw Bildad lying motionless across the logs. The ugly face was smeared with blood, and Forbes and Canaris were binding the brawny arms and legs.
And there lay the knife, flashing back the light from its polished steel.
"You came as near to death, Chutney, as any man can come," said the colonel a little later, when Guy was able to sit up and lean against the fragments of the canoe. "Forbes saved you on this occasion. He got awake just in time, and crawling over the logs—for he was unable to walk—he brought down the butt of the revolver on the fiend's head. He first tried to shoot, but his weapon missed fire."
"Is he dead?" asked Guy.