opposite wall away from the side of the bed nearer the menacing
figure of the old servant. On tiptoe the man with the ax approached.
The neck of his victim lay uncovered before him. He swung the ax
behind him. A single blow, as mighty as his ancient muscles could
deliver, would suffice.

Barney Custer opened his eyes. Directly opposite him upon the wall
was a dark-toned photogravure of a hunting scene. It tilted slightly
forward upon its wire support. As Barney's opened it chanced that
they were directed straight upon the shiny glass of the picture. The
light from the window struck the glass in such a way as to transform
it into a mirror. The American's eyes were glued with horror upon
the reflection that he saw there--an old man swinging a huge ax down
upon his head.

It is an open question as to which of the two was the most surprised
at the cat-like swiftness of the movement that carried Barney Custer
out of that bed and landed him in temporary safety upon the opposite
side.

With a snarl the old man ran around the foot of the bed to corner
his prey between the bed and the wall. He was swinging the ax as
though to hurl it. So close was he that Barney guessed it would be
difficult for him to miss his mark. The least he could expect would
be a frightful wound. To have attempted to escape would have
necessitated turning his back to his adversary, inviting instant
death. To grapple with a man thus armed appeared an equally hopeless
alternative.

Shoulder-high beside him hung the photogravure that had already
saved his life once. Why not again? He snatched it from its
hangings, lifted it above his head in both hands, and hurled it at
the head of the old man. The glass shattered full upon the ancient's
crown, the man's head went through the picture, and the frame
settled over his shoulders. At the same instant Barney Custer leaped
across the bed, seized a light chair, and turned to face his foe
upon more even turns.

The old man did not pause to remove the frame from about his neck.
Blood trickled down his forehead and cheeks from deep gashes that
the broken glass had made. Now he was in a berserker rage.

As he charged again he uttered a peculiar whistling noise from
between his set teeth. To the American it sounded like the hissing
of a snake, and as he would have met a snake he met the venomous
attack of the old man.

When the short battle was over the Blentz servitor lay unconscious
upon the floor, while ab