"This to teach thee respect."
And this to prove whether thou art mortal or rejoined Fenwolf, plucking
his hunting-knife from his belt, and striking it with all his force against
the other's breast. But though surely and forcibly dealt, the blow
glanced off as if the demon were cased in steel, and the intended
assassin fell back in amazement, while an unearthly laugh rang in his
ears. Never had Fenwolf seen Herne wear so formidable a look as he at
that moment assumed. His giant frame dilated, his eyes flashed fire,
and the expression of his countenance was so fearful that Fenwolf
shielded his eyes with his hands.
"Ah, miserable dog!" thundered Herne; "dost thou think I am to be hurt
by mortal hands, or mortal weapons? Thy former experience should
have taught thee differently. But since thou hast provoked it, take thy
fate!"
Uttering these words, he seized Fenwolf by the throat, clutching him
with a terrific gripe, and in a few seconds the miserable wretch would
have paid the penalty of his rashness, if a person had not at the
moment appeared at the doorway. Flinging his prey hastily backwards,
Herne turned at the interruption, and perceived old Tristram Lyndwood,
who looked appalled at what he beheld.
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