"Will you let me go, if _I_ let _you_ go?" Hadden asked once more. "I
know why you hate me, but the past cannot be undone, nor can the dead be
brought to earth again."
Still Nahoon made no answer, and his silence seemed more fateful and
more crushing than any speech; no spoken accusation would have been so
terrible in Hadden's ear. He made no answer, but lifting his assegai he
stalked grimly toward his foe.
When he was within five paces Hadden covered him and fired. Nahoon
sprang aside, but the bullet struck him somewhere, for his right
arm dropped, and the stabbing spear that he held was jerked from it
harmlessly over the white man's head. But still making no sound, the
Zulu came on and gripped him by the throat with his left hand. For a
space they struggled terribly, swaying to and fro, but Hadden was
unhurt and fought with the fury of despair, while Nahoon had been
twice wounded, and there remained to him but one sound arm wherewith to
strike. Presently forced to earth by the white man's iron strength, the
soldier was down, nor could he rise again.
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