I advanced to him. He did not flinch. He raised his knife threateningly in the air. But I did not care for that. Running in, I caught him round the waist. I lifted him from his feet. He wound his arms about me. He was strong, but I myself am not a weakling. We struggled furiously. Finding that I could not throw him, I slipped my right hand upwards and caught him with it by the throat. In my rage I was half inclined to choke the life out of him. I could have done it! But, as I compressed my grasp, without an instant’s warning he was gone! I was struggling with a phantom! There was nothing there!
“He is gone!” I exclaimed, looking about to see if there were traces of him left.
“Quite time he was gone.” This, I knew, came from the youth who had been sitting on my right. “If he had not gone
