He was growing colder, and there was a bewildering dimness in his eyes, but he stiffened the muscles of his arms and tightened his grasp on the knife, wondering if his strength would last until he had his hands upon his enemy.
The man swayed forward as he crossed the strip of moonlight with a little spring, then came on again with both hands on the rifle, waist-deep in the fern, glancing down momentarily at the trail his victim had made, and then about him again.

Alton's face was drawn up into a very grim smile as he lay amidst the raspberries watching him, for it was evident that the assassin fancied he had crawled straight on.

The latter stopped once for several seconds, and Alton heard his heart thumping while the sound of the river seemed to grow bewildering.
He stiffened his fingers upon the knife-haft savagely, for the horrible faintness he could not shake off was growing upon him.
Then with a little jerk of his shoulders the man who caught sight of the opening moved again, faster than he had done, and the watcher surmised that fear and savagery struggled for the mastery within him.
The latter apparently rose uppermost, for he came straight on through the thicket, sprang across the clear space, and would have plunged into the bush beyond it but that Alton, reaching out caught him by the ankle.

Then he lurched forward with a hoarse cry, went down, and rolled over with Alton's hand at his throat, and the blade of the knife driven through the inner side of the sleeve of his jacket.
That was the commencement of a very grim struggle.

The stranger was wiry and vigorous, but the terrible hard fingers clung to his throat, and a leg was wound about him, while as he panted and smote he felt something was ripping his clothing.