Shrilling a wordless war-cry, he charged, propelling the whirling, deafening knives straight upon the prone legs of Rupe Collins.

The lawn-mower was sincerely intended to pass longitudinally over the body of Mr.Collins from heel to head; and it was the time for a death-song.

Black Valkyrie hovered in the shrieking air.
"Cut his gizzud out!" shrieked Herman, urging on the whirling knives.
They touched and lacerated the shin of Rupe, as, with the supreme agony of effort a creature in mortal peril puts forth before succumbing, he tore himself free of Herman and got upon his feet.
Herman was up as quickly.

He leaped to the wall and seized the garden-scythe that hung there.
"I'm go to cut you' gizzud out," he announced definitely, "an' eat it!" Rupe Collins had never run from anybody (except his father) in his life; he was not a coward; but the present situation was very, very unusual.
He was already in a badly dismantled condition, and yet Herman and Verman seemed discontented with their work: Verman was swinging the grass-cutter about for a new charge, apparently still wishing to mow him, and Herman had made a quite plausible statement about what he intended to do with the scythe.
Rupe paused but for an extremely condensed survey of the horrible advance of the brothers, and then, uttering a blood-curdled scream of fear, ran out of the stable and up the alley at a speed he had never before attained, so that even Dan had hard work to keep within barking distance.

And a 'cross-shoulder glance, at the corner, revealing Verman and Herman in pursuit, the latter waving his scythe overhead, Mr.
Collins slackened not his gait, but, rather, out of great anguish, increased it; the while a rapidly developing purpose became firm in his mind--and ever after so remained--not only to refrain from visiting that neighbourhood again, but never by any chance to come within a mile of it.
From the alley door, Penrod and Sam watched the flight, and were without words.