Michael Strogoff

At last, with a spring he drove his sword full at Michael's breast. An imperceptible movement of the blind man's knife turned aside the blow. Michael had not been touched, and coolly he awaited a second attack.

Cold drops stood on Ogareff's brow. He drew a step , then again leaped for-ward. But as had the first, this second attempt failed. The knife had simply parried the blow from the traitor's useless sword.



The man heart froze. Right behind him, not fifteen yards was the massive cat. Being six feet long, 250 pounds of pure mean muscle. He slowly reached for his 1911 .45. He always kept a round in the chamber for this day. Suddenly the cat jumped. '' Bam, bam bam, bam ,bam ,bam bam, bam. Relode. Bam , bam ,bam bam ,bam bam ,bam bam. The cat was dead on the first two shots, but he wanted to make sure. He thought to him self, ''hm mm, cat for dinner.''