countenance told him his horrible design was discovered. His
thick lips parted in a glare of ferocious hatred--the blind fury of a
madman.

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 smea