He seemed actually to gain a yard, and now he was near enough for us to see his white face and staring eyes.

Then he stumbled, and the man with the knife was almost on him.

But he found his feet again, and swerved like a hunted hare in one desperate bound.

This gave me my chance: my musket cracked, and the Indian pitched quietly to the ground.

The knife flew out of his hand and almost touched Grey's heel.
With the sound Shalah had leaped from the gate, picked up Grey like a child, and in a second had him inside the palisade and the bars down.
He was none too soon, for as his pursuer fell a flight of arrows broke from the thicket, and had I shot earlier Grey had died of them.