Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. “And what will Mr. Save my seat. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. . ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed.
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