As he stepped out from the door a dark mass hurled itself at him, a hand
clutched at his throat, missed as he swiftly dodged back, and carried
away his collar. It was Perkins, his face distorted, his white teeth
showing in a snarl as of a furious beast. Again with a beast-like growl
he sprang, and again Cameron avoided him; while Perkins, missing his
clutch, stumbled over a block of wood and went crashing head first among
a pile of pots and pans and, still unable to recover himself and wildly
grasping whatever chanced to be within reach, fell upon the board that
stood against the corner of the porch to direct the rain into the tub;
but the unstable board slid slowly down and allowed the unfortunate
Perkins to come sitting in the tub full of water.
"Very neatly done, Perkins!" cried Cameron, whose anger at the furious
attack was suddenly transformed into an ecstasy of delight at seeing the
plight of his enemy.
Like a cat Perkins was on his feet and, without a single moment's pause,
came on again in silent fury. By an evil chance there lay in his path
the splitting axe, gleaming in the moonlight. Uttering a low choking
cry, as of joy, he seized the axe and sprang towards his foe. Quicker
than thought Cameron picked up a heavy arm chair that stood near the
porch to use it as a shield against the impending attack.
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