he glanced
round, taking in the situation and trying to forecast the probable
sequence of action. Since Spurling had lain down, he had altered his
position, so that now his body stretched across the entrance, with his
head in the corner where the two walls met, forming an acute angle
with the threshold so that, though he prevented the door from opening
more than two or three inches, directly it was opened his person would
be visible, and exposed to attack.

Gently the latch was raised and, by slow degrees, the door began to
swing inwards. The slit which it made let in a narrow ray of
moonlight, which, leaving Spurling's face in shadow, fell slanting
across his neck. If he had not moved in his sleep, his head would have
been farther out from the wall, and the light, striking on his eyes
would have aroused him; as it was, he was undisturbed. Alert with the
horror of it, Granger watched to see what would follow next. The
person on the other side, peering through the opening, had been warned
by the same sight of the exposed bare neck, and, desisting from
pushing the door wider, was deliberating.

When a short interval had elapsed, he saw a hand thrust through the
crack; it gripped a trapper's hunting knife, with the blade pointing
downwards, and was poised about to strike. Granger was unarmed
himself; there was but one thing that could be done to save his
comrade's life. Flinging all his weight upon the door, he closed it,
imprisoning the assailant's hand above the wrist joint. The knife
clattered to the floor, where it stuck out quivering, grazing
Spurling's cheek as it fell. The hand tried to wrench itself free, the
fingers opening and closing convulsively, but there was no sound from
outside.

Spurling awoke with a cry, and clapping his hand to his face found it
wet with blood. He rose to his feet with his fists clenched, and the
look of a wild beast at bay in his eyes. His lips were working with
nervousness and desire to fight. "What is it?" he whispered. "Have
they come to take us?"

Granger signed to him to stand back and keep quiet. Then he followed
the direction of Granger's eyes, and he also saw the hand. Bending
down, with his back against the door, Granger examined it. It was
brown and slim--far too small for a man's hand, and far too dusky to
belong to a person who was white. The light, stealing in through the
aperture, showed it plainly and fell along its length; the fingers had
ceased to writhe and were