The fellow looked
as though he were going to burst with rage. He rolled about, his
bloodshot eyes seemed to protrude, he cursed us horribly, he put his
hand upon the hilt of the great knife he wore, and finally he did what
the tom-cat does, he spat.
Now, Stephen was standing with me, looking as cool as a cucumber and
very much amused, and being, as it chanced, a little nearer to Hassan
than I was, received the full benefit of this rude proceeding. My
word! didn't it wake him up. He said something strong, and the next
second flew at the half-breed like a tiger, landing him a beauty
straight upon the nose. Back staggered Hassan, drawing his knife as he
did so, but Stephen's left in the eye caused him to drop it, as he
dropped himself. I pounced upon the knife, and since it was too late
to interfere, for the mischief had been done, let things take their
course and held back the Zulus who had rushed up at the noise.
Hassan rose and, to do him credit, came on like a man, head down. His
great skull caught Stephen, who was the lighter of the two, in the
chest and knocked him over, but before the Arab could follow up the
advantage, he was on his feet again.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154