Freedom lay beyond that shiny path.

Into it he bounded.
As he left the glade the plumed guard stepped from behind a tree near the entrance of the path, and cast his tomahawk.
A white, glittering flash, it flew after the fleeing runner; its aim was true.
Suddenly the moonlight path darkened in the runner's sight; he saw a million flashing stars; a terrible pain assailed him; he sank slowly, slowly down; then all was darkness..