He was a much heavier and stronger man than I, accustomed to barroom fighting, reckless of method, caring for nothing except to get his man.

His grip was at my throat, and, even as his fingers closed savagely, he struck me with one knee in the stomach, and drove an elbow straight into my face.

The next instant we were locked together so closely any blow became impossible, youth and agility waging fierce battle against brutal strength.

I think I was his match, yet this I never knew--for all my thought centered in an effort to keep his hands from reaching any weapon.

Whatever happened to me, there must be no alarm, no noise sufficiently loud so as to attract the attention of sentries on guard.
This affair must be fought out with bare knuckles and straining sinews--fought in silence to the end.