In person, he was tall, strong,
and active; his hair and complexion very dark; his features handsomely
designed, but spoiled by a menacing expression.
At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; he wore a heavy
frown; and his lips worked, and he looked sharply round him as he walked,
like a man besieged with apprehensions. And yet I thought he had a look of
triumph underlying all, as though he had already done much, and was near
the end of an achievement.
Partly from a scruple of delicacy--which I dare say came too late--partly
from the pleasure of startling an acquaintance, I desired to make my
presence known to him without delay.
I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward.
"Northmour!" said I.
I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my days. He leaped on me
without a word; something shone in his hand; and he struck for my heart
with a dagger. At the same moment I knocked him head over heels. Whether
it was my quickness, or his own uncertainty, I know not; but the blade
only grazed my shoulder, while the hilt and his fist struck me violently
on the mouth.
I fled, but not far. I had often and often observed the capabilities of
the sand hills for protracted ambush or stealthy advances and retreats;
and, not ten yards from the scene of the scuffle, plumped down again upon
the grass.
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