Then, suddenly, hands were upon my throat, and I could feel the
hot pant of his breath in my face, breath that hissed and
whistled between clenched teeth. Desperately I strove to break
his hold, to tear his hands asunder, and could not; only the
fingers tightened and tightened.
Up and down the room we staggered, grim and voiceless--out
through the open door--out into the whirling blackness of the
storm. And there, amid the tempest, lashed by driving rain and
deafened by the roaring rush of wind, we fought--as our savage
forefathers may have done, breast to breast, and knee to knee
--stubborn and wild, and merciless--the old, old struggle for
supremacy and life.
I beat him with my fists, but his head was down between his arms;
I tore at his wrists, but he gripped my throat the tighter; and
now we were down, rolling upon the sodden grass, and now we were
up, stumbling and slipping, but ever the gripping fingers sank
the deeper, choking the strength and life out of me. My eyes
stared up into a heaven streaked with blood and fire, there was
the taste of sulphur in my mouth, my arms grew weak and
nerveless, and the roar of wind seemed a thousand times more
loud. Then--something clutched and dragged us by the feet, we
tottered, swayed helplessly, and plunged down together. But, as
we fell, the deadly, gripping fingers slackened for a moment, and
in that moment I had broken free, and, rolling clear, stumbled up
to my feet. Yet even then I was sill encumbered, and, stooping
down, found the skirts of the overcoat twisted tightly about my
foot and ankle. Now, as I loosed it, I inwardly blessed that
tattered garment, for it seemed that to it I owed my life.
So I stood, panting, and waited for the end. I remember a blind
groping in the dark, a wild hurly-burly of random blows, a sudden
sharp pain in my right hand--a groan, and I was standing with the
swish of the rain about me, and the moaning of the wind in the
woods beyond.
How long I remained thus I cannot tell, for I was as one in a
dream, but the cool rain upon my face refreshed me, and the
strong, clean wind in my nostrils was wonderfully grateful.
Presently, raising my arm stiffly, I brushed the wet hair from my
eyes, and stared round me into the pitchy darkness, in quest of
my opponent.
"Where are you?" said I at last, and this was the first word
uttered during the struggle; "where are you?"