He drew his knife and took a step forward--a flash in
the air, and the steel went in deep between the back fins, sending up
a spurt of blood. "Look out!" cried the others, but Martin had already
sprung back out of reach of the black tail. And now the dance of death
began anew. The knife was fixed to the grip in the creature's back;
one gaff had buried its hook between the eyes, and another hung on the
flank--the wooden shafts were flung this way and that at every bound,
and the boat's frame shook and groaned under the blows.
"She'll smash the boat and we'll go to the bottom," cried Peer.
And now HIS knife flashed out and sent a stream of blood spouting from
between the shoulders, but the blow cost him his foothold--and in a
moment the two bodies were rolling over and over together in the bottom
of the boat.
"Oh, Lord Jesus!" shrieked Klaus, clinging to the stempost. "She'll kill
him! She'll kill him!"
Peer was half up now, on his knees, but as he reached out a hand to
grasp the side, the brute's jaws seized on his arm. The boy's face
was contorted with pain--another moment and the sharp teeth would have
bitten through, when, swift as thought, Peter Ronningen dropped his
oars and sent his knife straight in between the beast's eyes. The blade
pierced through to the brain, and the grip of the teeth relaxed.
"C-c-cursed d-d-devil!" stammered Peter, as he scrambled back to
his oars. Another moment, and Peer had dragged himself clear and was
kneeling by the forward thwart, holding the ragged sleeve of his wounded
arm, while the blood trickled through his fingers.
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