Tom supposed he must obey, as the man pointed
warningly to the rocks above, as though to hint that danger might
be expected from them.
So on they trudged, Tom feeling a slight unaccustomed giddiness in
the head, as many persons do who first try walking for some hours
in the glare of sun and snow and at a high altitude. Then the path
suddenly turned again under the frowning wall of rock, which rose
black and stern through the covering of snow. The guide disappeared
round the angle of the path; Tom followed with quick steps, and the
next moment was almost felled to the earth by the terrific blow of
a cudgel upon his head.
Almost, but not quite. He had been on his guard. He felt that the
crisis was coming, and he was certain that the guide had betrayed
him at this pre-arranged spot into the hands of his enemies. In one
second Tom's rapier was out (he had carried that in spite of the
hindrance it had sometimes been to him), and although he was
half-blinded and half-stunned by the force of the blow received, he
lunged fiercely forward, and heard a yell of pain which told him
that his blade had found its billet.
But the blade could not at once be disentangled. For two seconds,
perhaps, was Tom struggling with it; and in those two seconds one
of his adversaries sprang behind him, and seized him round the
waist with the hug of a bear.
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