At that moment the captain
handed Isaacs a prepared receipt for signature, to the effect that the
prisoner had been duly delivered to his new owner. The light was growing
dimmer, and Isaacs could hardly see to read the characters before he
signed. He raised the scroll to his eyes and turned half round to see it
better. At that moment the tall captain stretched forth his arm and laid
his hand on Isaacs' shoulder, raising his other arm at the same time to
his men, who had crept nearer and nearer to our group while the endless
talking was going on. I was perfectly prepared, and the instant the
soldier's hand touched Isaacs I had the man in my grip, catching his
upraised arm in one hand and his throat with the other. The struggle did
not last long, but it was furious in its agony. The tough Punjabi
writhed and twisted like a cat in my grasp, his eyes gleaming like
living coals, springing back and forward in his vain and furious efforts
to reach my feet and trip me. But it was no use. I had his throat and
one arm well in hand, and could hold him so that he could not reach me
with the other. My fingers sank deeper and deeper in his neck as we
swayed backwards and sideways tugging and hugging, breast to breast,
till at last, with a fearful strain and wrench of every muscle in our
two bodies, his arm went back with a jerk, broken like a pipe-stem, and
his frame collapsing and bending backwards, fell heavily to the ground
beneath me.
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