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slipped over his forehead and he fell back unconscious. Tenaida looked behind and then took flight with all the speed she could use.
Then the clean-shaved man cried with a drawling voice, “A——a——a!”
And with this he ran after her.
Niemoviecki staggered to his feet, but even before he could straighten himself he was struck down again.
The struggle was unequal: they were two and he only one, and, as well as being weak, he was not used to fighting; yet he struggled, fidgeted and scratched like an angry woman, wept and bit their hands. At length he became completely exhausted and his foes carried him away. He at first resisted them and in fear began to roar, but afterwards ceased to comprehend what was happening and hung senseless upon the hands which were lifting him.
