Exultantly he cried, mad
with lust for the brute's blood.
But the slight delay saved Girty's life.
The knife was knocked from Joe's hand and he leaped erect to find
himself confronted by Silvertip. The chief held a tomahawk with
which he had struck the weapon from the young man's grasp, and, to
judge from his burning eyes and malignant smile, he meant to brain
the now defenseless paleface.
In a single fleeting instant Joe saw that Girty was helpless for the
moment, that Silvertip was confident of his revenge, and that the
situation called for Wetzel's characteristic advice, "act like
lightnin'."
Swifter than the thought was the leap he made past Silvertip. It
carried him to a wooden bar which lay on the floor. Escape was easy,
for the door was before him and the Shawnee behind, but Joe did not
flee! He seized the bar and rushed at the Indian. Then began a duel
in which the savage's quickness and cunning matched the white man's
strength and fury. Silvertip dodged the vicious swings Joe aimed at
him; he parried many blows, any one of which would have crushed his
skull. Nimble as a cat, he avoided every rush, while his dark eyes
watched for an opening. He fought wholly on the defensive, craftily
reserving his strength until his opponent should tire.
At last, catching the bar on his hatchet, he broke the force of the
blow, and then, with agile movement, dropped to the ground and
grappled Joe's legs.
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