"Then I repeat, it's an awkward obstacle, for I certainly can't get
up."

Krag hunted about in his pockets, and at length produced a clasp
knife.

"Remove you coat, and roll up your shirt sleeve," he directed.

"Do you propose to make an incision with that?"

"Yes, and don't start difficulties, because the effect is certain,
but you can't possibly understand it beforehand."

"Still, a cut with a pocket-knife--" began Maskull, laughing.

"It will answer, Maskull," interrupted Nightspore.

"Then bare your arm too, you aristocrat of the universe," said Krag.
"Let us see what your blood is made of."

Nightspore obeyed.

Krag pulled out the big blade of the knife, and made a careless and
almost savage slash at Maskull's upper arm. The wound was deep, and
blood flowed freely.

"Do I bind it up?" asked Maskull, scowling with pain.

Krag spat on the wound. "Pull your shirt down, it won't bleed any
more."